my father visits again, valentine's day, 2009

my father came to me in a dream last night. he is ready to go he said. he looked great, softer, wiser, still beautiful. black hair and a face like i hope to have some day. we hugged at the back door. he had found some work paying $1 an hour. he was happy with that. modesty and a willingness to forgive himself. he had those qualities last night. a quiet determination. not showy, not boisterous. he took small things out of his breast pocket for children and put them aside. we sat on his bed knowing this would be it. i woke up.

my father died in 1973, but like indian spirits through the ages he has been returning mostly at night so that i can carry him in a new way during the day. he is a welcome presence, he is changing even now. i love him so much.