Feb 9

tn_000035:05 am

I’m with Dad and he’s preparing me to be without him.  We’re in a house that feels more like a condominium.  It’s nothing I recognize.

Dad pours a collection of cheeses, crackers, snack packs and lunch meats out on the bed and indicates that I should take whatever I want.  I look through the pile, noting that all of our orange cups are gone.  Later I find most of them in his closet.

I retreat to the kitchen to cook some food.  Soon he comes in and gives me a long sleeved dress shirt.  It’s blue with thin, green stripes and he tells me ‘This will fit you.’  Then he indicates that we’ll need to tear it a little and tie it to a weight belt so I’ll have it later in life, when I’m taking working out more seriously.

He is gone now.  I sit before large pictures and murals of him on the wall, thinking how big he is.

The house is empty.  I am all alone.

(I wake)

The pre-dawn darkness brings me nothing but pain and sadness as I begin another day of hurting.  As has become habit, I wake up earlier than I care to, before anyone else, and I sit in the dark on the edge of the tub  trying to separate dream from reality.  It’s a double dose of despair today; though my dream was sad in its own rite, more depressing is waking up and realizing I’ve entered another day without him.  Another day like the rest of my life.

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