It’s been such a strange few months since my Dad passed away. When I’m riding my motorcycle I feel like I can hear his voice much more easily than at any other time. That’s when I feel most open and able to focus on my thoughts. That’s when his voice comes clear as a bell.
I dreamed of him last night. He was the him that existed before he got really sick. In my dream he was helping me fix all sorts of problems that were plaguing the house where I lived in the dream.
I miss him everyday.
“Boy, am I glad to see you!”
“And I’m glad to see you.”
“How’s that 3-wheeler you got?”
“The Ural? It’s great. “
He was so crazy about that thing. It captured some part of his imagination, I guess.
In the last few months before he died he would say – “I never in a million years imagined you’d turn out this way.” He felt so proud that it was him that sewed the seeds of motorcycle love in me.
I’ll keep riding and keep listening for you, Pop.