My father, mother, and I the first and last year we were a family.

I can’t remember exactly what we were doing, but I know we were in Vegas. I hate Vegas, but my dad lived there for a while before I knew him and to my knowledge, he loved it.

My dad and I never traveled or went on adventures together. I mainly just got to spend the day with him every few weeks, months, or sometimes years — that is, until college, when I started going to see him a little more often. During this dream I remember we were sitting, just the two of us, talking, and it was great. I honestly can’t remember a time when just the two of us had a great conversation.

Anyways, I started talking to someone else who seemingly just appeared out of nowhere. I looked over at my dad. It was at that point I realized my dad wasn’t alive anymore. He died about 2 years ago and I have missed him dearly ever since. It still hadn’t dawned on me that I was dreaming. I remember he stood up, looked at me, smiled, and started walking away. I immediately ended my conversation with whoever, and chased after my dad as he was merely walking away. I remember feeling like I was so happy that he was back. I didn’t know how or why it was happening, but for a moment I was so thrilled to see him again. But then it was over. My dream world didn’t let me catch up to him.

I want so badly to have one more real conversation with my dad. I woke up immediately after the disappearing act, and within moments of consciousness I had a few tears slowly running down my face. I was visiting a new part of grief that hadn’t yet presented itself. The “new” last memory I have with my dad had just ended.

I had just experienced my final moment with him. He’s not at home, bedridden on hospice care trying to muster up words and sentences as I sit idly by, practically waiting for him to die. We were together, talking. He smiled. I didn’t feel sorry for him. He simply stood up, and walked away.