This little boy of mine, he just fell asleep next to me. I watch as his eyes close, then open and close again. A few more times and then they stay shut. His eyelashes floating down to the longest length you can possibly see. They are like the long wisps of feathers, hovering over his cherubic cheeks.

I close my eyes and think about when he’s awake, his bright blue eyes, the ones that look like his dad’s. They flow with love, life, and the joy of being 3. He will bat his eyelids with those soft lashes, close to my cheeks when we give kisses. Those lashes that are closed so sweetly now.

When awake, they softly whisper, the feeling of what the softest part of an angel's wings would feel like when brushed against the soul. He is my heaven. He says, “I love you Mommy,” and looks at me with those big blue eyes lined with those long lashes and whole face smiles.

He smiles with his whole soul. Squishing his whole face- encompassing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. Ahhhhh… 3. Oh Grant, how can you be ok with missing this? Every morning he wakes up and comes to find me in my bed. He climbs up and snuggles in close.

I hold him to my heart and say, “Good morning handsome! Did you have a good sleep?” “Yaaah.” “DId you have any dreams?” “Yaaah.” “What did you dream about?” “I dreamed about Daddy.” “You dreamed about Daddy?” “Yaaaah.” “What did you dream about Daddy?” “That he loves me.” “Yeah he does.” “And I miss Daddy ‘cause he died.” “Yeah he did, I’m sorry your daddy died.”
I am so sorry. Every time he says that, I feel so sorry about it.
Then he goes on and plays with his brothers, or runs outside or picks up his baba and toddles away happily. It’s a part of our day. Everyday. Every single day since Grant died, we have this conversation. Of course I could avoid this conversation by not asking him if he had any dreams.

I don’t ever want to stop asking my boy if he has a dream though. So I won’t and I’ll keep having this conversation. There are slight variations to it each day. I learn a little more about what he sees his daddy doing.

He tells me Daddy is happy. Daddy is with Jesus. Daddy is a spirit. Daddy’s big change is coming. Daddy misses me. Daddy sees Spirits. Daddy is here. Daddy is sad with you Mommy. Daddy doesn’t eat food. Daddy can fly.

I know he sees his dad. In his dreams, but also with his eyes, and ears and heart. He gets to talk with him. I know Grant spends time with him every day. I can see Grants smile and hear his voice as he says, “Hey Buddy! Let’s play,” while our boy is asleep. He’s there with him.

They are building his dreams so that when he’s older those memories will feel real to him. He won’t remember his dad dying when he was 2, because he’s seen him every day since. He’s 3 now. His dreams are real, just like mine and yours.

I’ll never stop asking you what you dream, son. Even if it hurts to talk about it. Your dreams are more real than life. This I know. I want to remember to live in that dream world with you. That’s where I want to create memories. Those are beautiful. And real. Keep dreaming little one.