Lately, it Occurs to Me What a Long, Strange Trip it’s Been – Grateful Dead

Last night I had the first dream about my Dad since his passing.  It seems fitting as it is the night before Valentine’s Day and most of my memories from this holiday are of him always getting me some outlandish gift for my given age.  This was often an elaborate box of say 50 or 100 piece chocolates, which was thrilling to receive as a five or eight year old.  There was always an equally lavish card, huge in size with a red rose on the cover reading “To my Daughter….” in some fancy scroll. The card was always geared towards an adult, never a cartoon or whimsical kids card, which in an of itself I always found humorous even when I was little. 

In last nights dream, I was helping my Dad to stand from his wheelchair, something he hadn’t been able to physically do for roughly the last 10 years of his life.  He was in a hospital gown and as I held him up, I wanted to make sure it felt physically ok to stand, as that hadn’t occurred for so very long.  But he couldn’t understand me with my mask on (oh how COVID has permeated even the subconsciousness).   So I took off my mask and asked again “does it feel good to stand?” and a wave of complete peace fell over his face.  It was the same exact expression I witnessed when a nurse came in to give him a head message a day or so before he passed.  That was it, then I woke up. 

Hopefully this isn’t a surprise announcement, and I believe most readers know by now that I’m expecting a little girl soon.  Her due date happens to be very close to my Dad’s birthday. For a large chunk of this pregnancy, I’ve been reflecting on so many memories of the early years with Sasha.  Starting at the very beginning, protesting being told it was time to be discharged from the hospital and take her home.  I felt so unready.  Recalling Sasha’s first passport photo, how you can see the tips of my fingers holding her newborn head since we decided to take her to Southern France at just two months old (I’d mostly advise against this).  Those times around the age of 3 when Sasha would obsessively watch Elmo videos, standing so close to the TV so that when the VHS would pop out, she would pop it right back in again to hit replay.  “La La La La, La La La La, Elmos Song”….I can still hear that melody.

Then the harder years come into view, recalling the countless phone calls at work politely asking me to pick Sasha up from numerous day care centers and Montessori schools.  She’d thrown a wooden toy across the room again and hit someone in the head, or disrupted formal learning modules.  She wanted to play duck-duck-goose instead of sitting during circle story time. I can still see her walking back to the car each time with her characteristic chip on the shoulder gait that could almost be seen underneath the straps of her Dr. Suess backpack.  It was as if to say “that didn’t go so well but tomorrow’s a new day”.  I always wondered if she understood that she wouldn’t be returning there tomorrow. 

I reflect on all of these memories now through a new lens and think to myself wow, I’m about to embark on this journey all over again, twenty two years later, with such different context behind me and ahead of me. 

There’s been lots of time now for this surprise news to set in, and we’re so excited and (mostly) prepared for this imminent arrival.  The nursery is almost ready, such a peaceful space as I sit in that very room now while typing.  As I look over at this sweet space my eye wanders to the built in window seat that one of my dear friends and her Mom completely brought to life.  Last fall we went to a fabric store together to pick out seat cushions and pillow clothes, and while I had a vision in mind of something very different, when I came across a simple fabric of tan arrows crisscrossed with the black text “Be Brave Little One”, I instantly knew I’d found my fabric.  As I drove home with those yards of joy and creativity sitting in the bag next to me, a wave of emotions flooded in.  We are called upon to be brave in so many instances of our daily lives.  I know we’ll have to be brave one day as we navigate tougher waters with Sasha.  One day her little sister will likely experience a magnitude of loss that I can’t begin to imagine. Soon, I’ll need to be brave as labor approaches and all of its unknowns.   

But if there’s one take away from that recent dream with my Dad, it’s that wherever you may find yourself, remain tall, take in a deep breath and exhale.  I know with certainty that we have many great adventures ahead of us.  Together, we will learn to be brave. And despite any worries, the lyrics from one of Dad’s favorite Grateful Dead songs Truckin can help guide the way; “hang it up and see what tomorrow brings”.