Those who have passed on are not lost, but waiting for our arrival.
In fact (or very real possibility), they may never have left us at all.
Just a few days back, I dreamed of Hercules, my parent’s sprightly little chihuahua-poodle mix who passed on (perhaps) around seven years ago. His beige hair was shaggy as ever as he happily jumped and walked around, greeting us, always eager to be close to humans—especially those of the male variety.
Periodically, Hercules is in my dreams. Even if I’ve not necessarily thought directly of him for days at a time, he comes back.
Charlie was my son, a friend of Hercules. And a gray cat with light black stripes. We love(d) him dearly. He passed on—perhaps—on December 14, 2019.
A week or so ago, sometime in the night, I heard a thump upon the floor. The same sound Charlie always made while jumping down onto the floor from a bed, chair, sofa.
A dream? Reality?
Charlie’s presence is always felt nearby. His friend Hercules is not far behind him.