Back in the fall of 1995, my father graciously gave me the go-ahead to find a place to live in Boston – something that would suit me while finishing out college and beginning whatever line of work I would begin, and which would also serve as a landing space for when the family visited the city. Within days, I had set up visits with a real estate agent, and within a couple of weeks we’d located our current place on Braddock Park.
Because of that, Dad had always been the impetus and charge behind me finding my home there, and I remember him visiting once when I was working at John Hancock, when we stayed in the condo and had a weekend together. Of course he was present for when Andy and I got married in the Boston Public Garden, and told everyone of how I had found the condo for them as soon as I get off the phone from him giving me the go-ahead. That was the last time I was in Boston with him, and I’m so grateful we have that happy memory. As I readied to return to the city for the first time since his death, I wondered if I would still feel that connection.
For Labor Day weekend, I had promised to take the twins to Boston, and it felt right to have them with me – they are in ways both literal and figurative the seamless continuation of my father – his blood runs through their veins and the memories of their childhood carry him through to this day. They also provided a happy distraction for me: it’s impossible to keep an eye on two thirteen-year-olds who more often than not are going in different directions, and still be pre-occupied with missing my Dad. On our first night, we went to bed fully spent and exhausted from a day of walking.
In the early hours of the morning, right before I woke up, I had a dream.
I was at my parents’ old house while my Mom was out. On the side porch, an early Christmas present had arrived for me – flowers and a Betty Buckley doll – the random and bizarre details that let us know it was only a dream. Slightly confused about the gift, I left it there so Mom could think that I was still surprised. I went back inside and heard someone in the downstairs bathroom.
Looking in, I saw two people – one facing me and one with his back to me. The man facing me was my father, in his much younger years – hair entirely black and brushed back in his usual style, and without the glasses that would become a mainstay later on. He was talking intently but happily with a gray-haired man whose back was still to me, until he turned around and I saw that it was an older version of my Dad, the way we knew him as adults.
I rushed in, confused but happy that somehow he had returned. I started crying immediately, and reached my arms around both of them. And then something that has only happened to me once in all my life occurred again in what I then fully understood to be a dream: I physically felt his arms around me. He held me there as I sobbed.
My crying was messy now, and I was hysterically trying to tell him how much we missed him and loved him. Still, I felt his arms enclosed around me, tangibly and physically embracing me and somehow letting me know that he was here. I asked him to please watch over us, especially Mom, and kept crying.
It must have been my wailing that woke me up. I felt for my face, rubbing the actual tears away. Through my hazy, tear-stained vision, I saw a double figure move off into the distance like some floater that sometimes moves across one’s gaze. At first I was devastated by the realization that it was only a dream, and then I was comforted by my Dad’s arms around me, still here in his own way, still loving me, still silently supporting us and letting us know he was ok.
This was my first trip back to Boston since Dad died, and I had been unsure if I would feel him there. While he was integral in purchasing our condo and he visited a handful of times, I only have those few memories of him being there with us. Yet on this first night back, this is where he chose to visit me. A sign that this was still home.
On the morning that we were set to depart, Emi called me over to the window. A cardinal had landed in the tree in front of the condo. I watched its scarlet feathers as she remarked that Lolo was visiting. Smiling softly, I knew that he already had.
