Ordinary Beauty as seen by Leila Anasazi

My dead parents visit me in my dreams all the time. It’s nice, really. Odd, but nice to see them, nice to be with them.

It is odd. Typically, we are doing something ordinary together, like cleaning house or working on some other project. (Last night, we were cleaning up some old furniture in the house that someone was coming to buy.) And it’s present tense, something happening today. And there they are, mom and dad, chatting with each other and with me, and so on.

Usually, at some point I realize, they’re dead. Sometimes I even say to them, “But you’re dead.”

This has been going on ever since mom died. That was ten years ago. She’d come and be in my dreams, and dad would be there and everything would be going along like it used to when she was alive. Now that dad has died, too, it all just keeps going along as it has for fifty years–me, mom, dad–just doing life.

I like that they are in my dreams so much. It is comforting, and every once in awhile they transmit some “lesson”. However, most of the time it’s just normal occurance kind of stuff, and it is soothing to have them, and, especially on dad’s part, I feel like they are still looking after me.

A big thing that I’ve learned about death is that no-thing, no one is ever completely gone. I think I like that.