Eternity
I had a dream last night bud. I had a dream that I had access to your preschool. They’ve been struggling with what they’re going to do long term, as the school district needs the space. So in my dream I was given a key and I was able to roam around the area because you’d died and I thought it was going to be therapeutic. This wasn’t the old preschool, but a new space that they were going to take over. I’d go there all the time and just walk around. Look, sit, cry.
One day when I entered, a middle aged man with a suit on was there with three of your teachers, all of which I recognized faintly… in that dream kind of way. The man said that he had bought out the preschool and was going to use the name for something different and was going to shut it down. The teachers told him our story. He told me I could take all the time I needed to say goodbye. Even though this wasn’t the space you went to school in, it felt like you had. The man and all the teachers left. And I was left alone. I wandered from room to room, just looking and thinking back.
I finally decided it was time to go and walked through a room with a small table and chairs, similar to the one that used to sit near the TV in our living room. And you were there. Sitting and waiting. I looked at you and you looked at me, and you raised your arms in that universal “Pick me up” gesture. I walked to you and leaned over and up you went into my arms and against my body.
I could FEEL you Bobo. For that few minutes in that dream. I could feel you. It was vivid. I could feel your heat and your softness and I could smell your little boy hair as you laid your head against me. I stood there for a minute and held you and walked out the entrance to head to the car. But the time I got to the car I looked down and you were gone from my arms. You’d disappeared as quickly as I’d spotted you at your little table.
Then I woke up. I could still feel you against me. And I laid there and cried. This empty space will never get filled. And as we come upon a year, I’m becoming exhausted with the daily attempt to continue. I just want to hold you close forever. To stand right there near that table in the preschool and cling to you for eternity.