Chad, Man of my Dreams

While I have loved wonderful men in my life, you, Chad, are  the man of my dreams.  Not long ago you were there.  You were waiting for me to come home.  I see you through the window.  You sit by the lamp, patiently waiting in the dimly lit room.  You look at ease with your long legs crossed.  You are tall and very handsome, in the  prime of your good looks.   I want to run in and throw my arms around you and hold you, but I hesitate and stand back.   I hang on to this moment of having you  nearby.  As I stare I recall how we talked the last days we were to have.  Behind that aloof, cool demeanor you were, Chad, a young man so sensitive and kind.  Your aura captured all that makes for charisma.  I wonder if you knew what a great guy you were.  I remember a day we’d met for lunch and you listened while I lamented about a relationship that was going sideways.   I was caught up in my own situation as I found  solace in that unwavering  bond between us.  How I loved your quiet strength.  Time with you felt good as we shared a sandwich.    After awhile you spoke and offered up some advice which went something like,  let things take its course without a struggle.   Wise counsel from a son to his mother.   I look for you as I peer through the window again.  My heart longs to be with you, to share, to talk,  but it is not to be.  Through the window once more I see you are gone.   I awake.  Your presence, your gentle soul fills the room and lingers there.   Your paintings hang from the walls and your treasured pieces of pottery are showcased throughout the house.  Fifteen years you’ve been gone.   Some days it seems like yesterday, some days it seems like an eternity.  There is no day I don’t dream of you.  Still missing you, Chad,  man of my dreams.

10 responses to “Chad, Man of my Dreams”

  1. had a hard time reading this with the tears in my eyes chad I love you and miss you very much .


  2. Susan, I didn’t know. You’re always so upbeat on the outside. I don’t know how you do it, my friend, but I am in awe of you. Here’s a hug.


  3. Susan it’s nice to meet you. This post was so poignant and truly touched me. I can’t imagine this kind of loss and pain. Do you know Daisy Hickman at Sunny Room She lost her son and, like you, has found some solace in writing.
    Thanks for joining Zero to 60 and beyond. I’m going to sign up here now.


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