So last night, I dreamed about my beloved dad.
He was in synagogue praying–something he did every day.
I was telling my dad that it was time to go.
But he didn’t want to leave–synagogue was his favorite place to be close to G-d and his friends.
My dad was in the front of the synagogue elevated on the steps before the Holy Ark (where the Torahs are kept).
I looked at my dad and somehow knew/felt that he was near death.
I ran to him and threw my arms around him in an incredible completely loving hug–clutching on to him to stay with us, longer.
In this embrace, I could feel his total and undying love for me.
Now he no longer looked like my dad but like a being of light–such as I had never seen.
He had died, but was still somehow alive in another way.
I miss my dad–he was a truly holy man (a Tzadik) and a loving husband, father, and grandfather, who would do anything for us.
I wish I could sit and speak with him again, hold his hand, hear him sing when we came over, and see him smile.
(Source Photo: here with attribution to Taltopia.com)