Early this morning, in the last of my dreams, I saw my friend John standing on the corner of a busy intersection waiting to cross with a bunch of friends.
Dear Jackie, thank you. I’ve been very emotional all morning thinking about it. He was such a big, joyful heart of a man. The world needs more men like him.
This is beautiful. He was/is beautiful. It's so important for us to remember to the world the people we've loved and lost. We want to know the people who've changed you, loved you, and made your world better for having been in it. I don't think they ever really leave us. Thank you for introducing me to your friend John. xo
Dear Nan, So good to hear this because you wonder as a writer whether it's right to send a love letter out to people who don't know the person you're writing about. But John brought a joy and a brilliance to this world that lit up a lot of peoples' lives. We need as much of that as we can get these days, and all days.
The dream I had that included John and his friends was so vivid. I felt he'd been there, like the encounter was real, final, and deep. I'm so curious about these visits...I think they come from the dreamer, not the dreamed...somehow the dreamer is projecting a need to tie things up, resolve things, get one last moment of love before the dreamed-one is released and separation truly begins... Something like that...
Thank you, Julie. Sometimes a loss really hits hard. John was someone I leaned on for always being joyful even though I rarely saw him, somehow he was just always there. Then he wasn't and it leveled me. His funeral was a testament to how he gave that to so many people. So moving for all of us. Much love to you, and thank you
"At his funeral, hundreds of people he'd loved singing for... gathered and sang for him." It doesn't get any better than that. A reminder to live a life worth being sung for.
so right! It was so beautiful and powerful, Doris. I found myself wishing I'd chosen to live a more communal musical life. I could see his choices manifesting in a deep connection with a lot of people and it moved me deeply. But we're all different. My creative life seems to need aloneness. When I think of changing direction even now, it doesn't feel right despite my admiration (and even envy) for how John lived. Remember that musical we did in Westcliffe? I sang with Katie and others...it was the first musical theater I'd ever done and I LOVED it. SO much fun and so satisfying. And yet...I've never done it again. A sadness, but life is short and there's only so much time in any one day, in any one life.
He was, Rebecca. A gentle soul with a big heart. So much of the loss I felt and still feel is because he's just always been there, my whole life he's been alive and full of of life. I didn't see him often but the connection never diminished or broke. That's what's so important about childhood friends. In some ways, they know us best. Love of us through and through. And are loved by us completely.
Bar, John is pinned in your heart and mind and probably sings or hums along with you on mornings when you are singing or making music. He was checking in to let you know he is ok and to show his friends the person he sings with. And he makes a great Santy Claus!
He had child-like joy and curiosity in his heart, Bill. Loved Disney, especially Mickey Mouse, and loved to tap dance and sing and enjoy his moments as often as possible. He was also serious and smart and thoughtful and gracious. He loved his family most of all. So proud of his wife and their girls. A good man in all respects. And always there. That's what I miss the most. He was just always there, making me and a whole lot of other people smile.
Sorry for your loss of a dear friend Bar. But what fun to have him reappear in your dreams. He has a wonderful smile - a bit contagious - and he looks like he brought a lot of joy into his life and other peoples lives with that smile and beautiful eyes!
His smile WAS contagious. That's exactly right. Thank you for putting that word to his smile because that's what he gave to so many of us. It's really a gift. And he sure lit up a stage too. Thank you.
This makes me incredibly sad. And it also fills my heart. You had told me about John a while back and your description of his loving, joyful presence stuck with me. Now I have a wonderful face to put to that light in the world. Sending all love and peace to your grieving heart, dear Bar.
Thank you, Kirsti. Somehow my sadness lifted when I had that dream-moment with John. Dreams can work miracles in that way. So much to grieve these days, but also much to celebrate. Spring, for instance, and you...xo
I was once visited in a dream by a guy Dad worked with. We knew him and the kids. He’d worked most of his summers on the North Slope of the Brooks Range as a geologist, and we thought of him as a mountain man because he acted and dressed like that even when he was in the Bay Area. (He worked at the US Geological Survey in Menlo Park like Dad did). I awoke in my tent, wind snapping the tarp that had replaced my rain fly (because my rain fly shredded), and I swore Joe had just been there. He’d put down in a helicopter and come to check on me. I was a masters student, doing my research, and I was on the North Slope. A few weeks later, I got a letter from my parents that Joe Hoare had died. I think he wanted one more visit to that amazing tundra before he left, and I was an easy point to come visit!
Dear Bar, what a beautiful love letter to John. And how wonderful that he appeared in your dream to say, hello. xo
Dear Jackie, thank you. I’ve been very emotional all morning thinking about it. He was such a big, joyful heart of a man. The world needs more men like him.
This is beautiful. He was/is beautiful. It's so important for us to remember to the world the people we've loved and lost. We want to know the people who've changed you, loved you, and made your world better for having been in it. I don't think they ever really leave us. Thank you for introducing me to your friend John. xo
Dear Nan, So good to hear this because you wonder as a writer whether it's right to send a love letter out to people who don't know the person you're writing about. But John brought a joy and a brilliance to this world that lit up a lot of peoples' lives. We need as much of that as we can get these days, and all days.
The dream I had that included John and his friends was so vivid. I felt he'd been there, like the encounter was real, final, and deep. I'm so curious about these visits...I think they come from the dreamer, not the dreamed...somehow the dreamer is projecting a need to tie things up, resolve things, get one last moment of love before the dreamed-one is released and separation truly begins... Something like that...
Thank you for sharing about your dear friend. Such beautiful experiences. I'm so sorry for your loss. Sending you huge love and hugs.
Thank you, Julie. Sometimes a loss really hits hard. John was someone I leaned on for always being joyful even though I rarely saw him, somehow he was just always there. Then he wasn't and it leveled me. His funeral was a testament to how he gave that to so many people. So moving for all of us. Much love to you, and thank you
"At his funeral, hundreds of people he'd loved singing for... gathered and sang for him." It doesn't get any better than that. A reminder to live a life worth being sung for.
so right! It was so beautiful and powerful, Doris. I found myself wishing I'd chosen to live a more communal musical life. I could see his choices manifesting in a deep connection with a lot of people and it moved me deeply. But we're all different. My creative life seems to need aloneness. When I think of changing direction even now, it doesn't feel right despite my admiration (and even envy) for how John lived. Remember that musical we did in Westcliffe? I sang with Katie and others...it was the first musical theater I'd ever done and I LOVED it. SO much fun and so satisfying. And yet...I've never done it again. A sadness, but life is short and there's only so much time in any one day, in any one life.
What a beautiful, sweet post. He sounds like a very special person indeed. 💕
He was, Rebecca. A gentle soul with a big heart. So much of the loss I felt and still feel is because he's just always been there, my whole life he's been alive and full of of life. I didn't see him often but the connection never diminished or broke. That's what's so important about childhood friends. In some ways, they know us best. Love of us through and through. And are loved by us completely.
Bar, John is pinned in your heart and mind and probably sings or hums along with you on mornings when you are singing or making music. He was checking in to let you know he is ok and to show his friends the person he sings with. And he makes a great Santy Claus!
He had child-like joy and curiosity in his heart, Bill. Loved Disney, especially Mickey Mouse, and loved to tap dance and sing and enjoy his moments as often as possible. He was also serious and smart and thoughtful and gracious. He loved his family most of all. So proud of his wife and their girls. A good man in all respects. And always there. That's what I miss the most. He was just always there, making me and a whole lot of other people smile.
Sorry for your loss of a dear friend Bar. But what fun to have him reappear in your dreams. He has a wonderful smile - a bit contagious - and he looks like he brought a lot of joy into his life and other peoples lives with that smile and beautiful eyes!
Thanks for sharing xo
His smile WAS contagious. That's exactly right. Thank you for putting that word to his smile because that's what he gave to so many of us. It's really a gift. And he sure lit up a stage too. Thank you.
This makes me incredibly sad. And it also fills my heart. You had told me about John a while back and your description of his loving, joyful presence stuck with me. Now I have a wonderful face to put to that light in the world. Sending all love and peace to your grieving heart, dear Bar.
Thank you, Kirsti. Somehow my sadness lifted when I had that dream-moment with John. Dreams can work miracles in that way. So much to grieve these days, but also much to celebrate. Spring, for instance, and you...xo
What a power letter. I love that your dream showed him crossing toward a bunch of friends. He had a bunch of friends--so he got there.
Thank you, Barb. It was pretty great to see him. Tangible. I felt like I'd been with him for the quickest moment.
I was once visited in a dream by a guy Dad worked with. We knew him and the kids. He’d worked most of his summers on the North Slope of the Brooks Range as a geologist, and we thought of him as a mountain man because he acted and dressed like that even when he was in the Bay Area. (He worked at the US Geological Survey in Menlo Park like Dad did). I awoke in my tent, wind snapping the tarp that had replaced my rain fly (because my rain fly shredded), and I swore Joe had just been there. He’d put down in a helicopter and come to check on me. I was a masters student, doing my research, and I was on the North Slope. A few weeks later, I got a letter from my parents that Joe Hoare had died. I think he wanted one more visit to that amazing tundra before he left, and I was an easy point to come visit!
Incredible story, Barb. It’s one of those mysteries, isn’t it? Really makes you wonder.