A few weeks ago I posted some ramblings about my father Larry Peters. You can scroll down a little bit if you need a refresher.
My dad passed away suddenly when I was eight. It was not until my teens that I finally realized the magnitude of the event and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was sitting in my room and it smacked me in the face. At that moment, despite having a great life and wonderful parents, I made the connection of not being able to ever see or hear my dad again.
I mentioned in the post that I don't have any video or him or a recording of his voice. I don't remember at all what he sounds like and other than some pictures I even sometimes forget his face. Which does bother me at times, a lot.
I have heard from people that have lost loved ones in the past that they have been "visited" or had "signs" of their loved one show up. Mostly in dreams and some with rare occurences while awake even. I have been skeptical. I have also been jealous. Since his passing I can't remember a dream like those or a "visit" in which he was present.
That is...until now.
Just a few days after writing the post about my dad I had a dream, visit or whatever you want to call it. I am no more skeptical. I am no more jealous, other than I want another chance.
So here is the skinny on what took place. Sometime between me falling asleep and waking up I was magically whisked back in time to my moms kitchen.
104 N. Main, Inwood, Iowa.
It was a small kitchen. Old wallpaper. Old countertops. And same old kitchen table. There were a whole bunch of people just sitting around chatting, I can't tell you who all of them were. I am not sure they were even family. Everything was just like it was in 1988 when he passed away.
Except for two things. I was just as I appear today and I was holding Isaiah. Mikah didn't seem to be there, or at least I don't remember him being there.
After a little while, as we were all eating and conversing, he arrived. My dad walked and sat down at a folding table. It took me a minute to realize what was happening. But as I looked up and noticed him I could tell that he had been staring at me for quite a while and he had a huge smile on his face. I walked quickly over to him and we embraced. We hugged for what seemed like a long time and I cried. I was happy, sad and everything in between. I couldn't let him go, I wouldn't. But he had something else he wanted to do. He wanted to meet Isaiah. I introduced him to Isaiah and he had the biggest smile I have seen on his face. I could tell he was proud and excited to be there with us.
And that was it. It was over as quickly as it had started.
It was worth it.
I needed it.
It was incredible.
For me, I needed to see my dad. I needed to hold him and I needed to see him smile in approval. In my mind and heart I have always believed that he was proud of me and that he was having a good time watching me grow, but this was a way to justify all of those feelings.
He met my son. The 4 year old that I asked everyday, sometimes hundreds of times a day to watch over and to protect as he was hospitalized this last fall. I can't explain how awesome it felt to have him meet Isaiah and for me to know that he actually was there with us while we fought for Isaiah's life. Wonderful.
It may have been a dream. It may have been real.
All I know is that it was Terrific. It was perfect. It all came at the best possible time.