I dreamed of him last night. No, not HIM, another him. Equally as important in my youth. I was standing in front of my grandparents house, when it was still my grandparents house. He stood holding a water hose, tending to his pecan tree. I was trying to talk him into moving.
“Grandpa” I said, “Just think, you could sell this and move into something smaller. Something more manageable for one person. This is to much work for you.” We looked around the yard, clean, slightly overgrown. It was still rural, no car dealership had popped up to ruin the view yet.
I don’t remember him speaking back. I don’t know if I remember his voice, which is a tragic loss to me. It has been over nineteen years since he died… wow. Putting that down startled me…nineteen years. I have almost reached the milestone of being alive more years without him than with. That breaks my heart a little.
I remember that milestone with my mother. I have been alive without her for so many years now….seems like the time I knew her was a dream, or something I saw on t.v. Someone else’s life. I don’t know why I dreamed of Grandpa…I know I miss him. I miss them all.