My alarm and its 5 o'clock music interrupted the question in my dream this morning, but I heard it anyway. And no surprise, it's woven to my sub-conscience, because yesterday was the eight-month mark since my dad's passing.
As I lay in bed before getting up, running over the sadness of that question--How's your dad doing?--I remembered what my five-year-old said last night when I tucked her in.
"We know where Papa is. Papa's in Heaven."
This after no prompting from me. I hadn't shared with her what date it was.
How's your dad doing?
And the answer pressed me, just like I'd pressed the alarm's snooze button.
He's in Heaven.
I trust it because my daughter knows the truth. She is a pure and open channel that way. She knows.
My dad's doing just fine.