Journal, June 15, 2014
Melanie (age 5), 2 days ago – “Mama, did dada make it to the summit before he died?” “No, Melanie, he died on the way up.” “I’m so sad for him mama. Too bad he did not get the beautiful view from the summit.”
Melanie, yesterday – “Mama, I had a dream that dad made it to the summit, then the group came back down, went back to the car, and came home.”
Melanie, this morning – “Mama, I dream about Dad every night. Last night I had a dream that there was an airplane in the sky. Dada’s soul jumped onto the wing of the airplane and then the airplane brought him to our house. He knocked on the door and said hi to us. Then, his soul flew back up into the air because of gravity. You know, gravity from the sky.”
Then, a bit later – “Mama, can we write “Happy Fathers Day, Love Holly Isabella and Melanie” on a balloon and let it go up to the sky so that Dada can see it?”
John – happy Fathers Day. I love you forever and will miss you every single day until I die and beyond.