What Dreams May Come

I had a dream last night, and as dreams always seem to go, most of it didn’t make any sense and the rest of it is hard to remember. One part in particular, just before I woke up, is still fresh in my mind - my Dad. A church song started playing and he was there. We embraced in a great big hug and I told him I missed him and loved him.

The two of us used to go to church together every Sunday. My mom would stay home, and my sister....well who even know were she was or what she was up to- probably sleeping. In his tan colored K-car on the way to church the radio announcer would be reading Beatle Bailey and Peanuts to the listeners. Sitting beside him in church was a memory unto itself - Old Spice permeating my nostrils, his deep baritone voice ringing out to the familiar choruses of old, the smell of cherry Halls still on his breath. There isn’t much about the actual sermons that is remembered, just sitting there singing with my Dad. He and I loved to sing together. There were even a number of times that we were asked to sing duets for the Sunday morning service. Not a Christmas concert would go by that one of us didn’t have a solo. One Christmas, he started to sing his solo and the microphone wasn’t working properly. Knowing the show must go on, he belted out the song so that everyone was able to hear him quite clearly. Half way through, the microphone kicked back in and his voice nearly blew the speakers.

I am pretty sure that a large majority of my appreciation for music came from him and his love of it. Another piece of him that I can take with me and pass on to his Grandson.

I hope there is singing in heaven because I am sure that if there is, my Dad is up there right now with no microphone, belting out his song. I can’t wait to join him in a heavenly duet!