Dreams

I have always been somewhat of a spiritual person in the fact that I truly believe that our souls move on from earth when we die. Whether they go to heaven, hell or hang out waiting for something, it is something I believe in.

I believe that our loved ones can and do watch over us and can come to us in various forms.

For me, it's in my dreams.

About six months after I lost my grandma, I had a dream in which she was standing behind my grandpa and we were at a family function. I talked to her and asked her how she could be there when she was dead. She told me that she was watching over my grandpa. I then asked how could it be that I could see her though? She told me that it must be because she was watching over me as well.

From that point on in my life, I knew.

I knew that our souls still lived on.

I knew my grandma was my guardian angel, if you want to call her that, and she was watching over me.

She watched over me the night I drove up to see my mom after getting the phone call that she was in the hospital and there was bleeding in her brain. She had had a massive stroke. I knew my grandma would make sure I got there safe to be with my mom when she died.

About six months after my mom died, I had a dream in which she was there too, with me and my two sisters. She didn't stay long, for she said she had to go, but that she would be back. She then hugged us all together and then the next second she was gone and the three of us were hugging each other.

This is a prelude to the story I am about to tell about the dream I had last night which involved my dad.

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For those of you that do know me and have known me forever, know that, growing up, my dad wasn't really around.


Oh, he would show up every now and then, would drop off birthday and christmas presents, or just stop by to visit, always unannounced. Then it eventually was where I didn't see him, but I would find the Christmas present from him under the tree. Even though I rarely saw him, seeing that present made me feel special. And it wasn't the gift itself, it was the fact that there was something there for me, only me, from him.


My mom had this photo cube that had pictures of me and him from when I was little, that she always had out for me.


When I played softball in junior high and he came over to see me and my mom told him about it, we went out and played catch at my grandma's house. See, he used to play baseball, and was even in the minor leagues in Ohio, so that was a treat for him to know that. At that point, it was a little awkward for me to go out and play catch with him, but I did it. That was also probably the second to last time I ever saw him. I was 13 or 14.



The next time I saw him I was 16 or 17. He and his girlfriend, of many years, came up to the door one Sunday afternoon. I was in TOTAL shock when I went to the door to see who it was. I was completely taken aback. My dad? Showing up after all these years??! How dare he! I was stunned, hurt, and pissed off beyond belief. Of course my mom and I let him in.


I had so many questions.


Where had he been? Ohio.


Why hadn't he gotten in touch with me at all? No real answer.


Why couldn't he have even sent a postcard or something? No answer for that.


I was pissed, and getting more pissed and hurt by every second.


(Now, remember, I am 16 or 17 at this time, and in high school. I also started smoking then too. My mom smoked and when she found out I did too, she never, once, told me I couldn't smoke. And so, as bad of a habit as it was, I did it, and smoked in the house.)


I went in my room, pissed, pacing back and forth and pissed, and hurt. Why would he do this to me? How could he hurt me like this?? How can I make him hurt like I'm hurting? Then I thought, hey, I'll light up a cigarette and smoke in front of him. I had to do something to make him as mad as I was. (yes, I know what a stupid thing to do, but hey, when you're 17.....)


So I did it. I lit up a cigarette, came out in the living room where my mom was being cordial and talking to my dad.


Not a word. Not one word came out of his mouth about me smoking. I knew he didn't like it though.


And then I left. Stupid, selfish teenager that I was, I left and left my mom do deal with being cordial to him.


And that was the last time I ever saw my dad. No more innocence. No more waiting for him to show some sort of affection for me, even if it was in the form of a present left at my grandma's house for me (which stopped when I was 13 as well).


Now, another sidenote to my story.....I knew I had a brother and 2 sisters older than me. I had never met them. I did end up meeting them when I was 19, but I'm going to save that story for another time.


They had told me, after I met them, that my dad was married to their mom when he married my mom. I found out that my dad used to hit my mom when he was drunk. I found out that he was a con-artist as well. I found out a lot of stuff about him that my mom had never told me. She had told me once that she wanted me to form my own opinion about him and not be influenced by what had happened to her.


That photocube that was displayed? It was no longer out. It was gone. I never wanted to see it again.


He had made veiled threats to one of my sisters and also to my mom about things if they let this continue, my relationship with my brother and sisters. Now, I think he was scared. He didn't want me to know about the things he had done.


He had a lot of issues, as you can see.


More stuff to fuel my anger and hurt about him.


There's actually a lot I DON'T know about my dad.


My sister did tell me one thing about him though. As crappy of a dad and husband as he was to them, our moms and us, he was a great grandpa. She was the one who was the closest to him, even though she says that I was the one that saw him the most. Maybe when I was little, but not later on in life, obviously.


Even when he was going in for a triple-bypass, I wouldn't go see him. I couldn't. There was still too much hurt and anger there. She pleaded with me, saying that he may not make it. But still, I didn't go. And he did survive that surgery. I knew he would.


After time, I did fall out of touch with my sisters. My brother had died of cancer shortly before I got married in 1992. I was still dealing with a lot of hurt feelings and emotions for a VERY long time.


Fast forward to 1998.


By this time I had had my oldest daughter. She was 3 years old then. My gorgeous redheaded daughter. Having a child puts a lot of things in perspective and time definitely has a way of healing a lot of pain and wounds.


(Another sidenote.....my dad was madly in love with Tina Louise who played Ginger on Gilligan's Island. I was named after her. He insisted I was named after her.)
This is me with him when I was a baby


By this time I was ready. I was ready to face him again. To let go of all the hurt and anger and just see him again. I wanted to show him his granddaughter. His beautiful red-headed granddaughter, who I knew he would fall in love with.


I was working for a private investigator and had access to online records. One day I was just surfing through and since I had his social security number from my birth records, I decided to look him up and see where he was living.


I found the file. I found his address. I was nervous, but also excited.


I was reading through the file and at the bottom I noticed something. It was a death notice.


He had died the year before.


It was too late.


I never got the chance to make my peace with him.

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Back to the present.


To my dream last night.


I was on my way to visit my dad. He was in the hospital, but not for anything really serious. I went to see him and I had my youngest daughter with me.


It was such a nice visit. We sat and talked. My sister even showed up as well. He was playing with my youngest daughter too.


When I woke up and realized what had happened, I smiled.

My dad came to me in my dreams.


I have never, ever dreamt about him before. So I knew he came to me in my dreams.



I got to make my peace with him.


I do want to know more about my dad and will be talking to my sisters more about him and his life and will, at one point write about him and his life here.

And the photo cube? My mom never got rid of it. She just put it aside until I wanted it again.

And I do have it still.