An ROGD parent's prayer

Oh, Dear Lord, let this be my death. If my eyes never open again, if I never see another day, let me dwell in this moment. Let this be my last and only vision, a long last look to carry me beyond. I am dreaming, and I know that I am dreaming. I see you, my beautiful daughter, with the sparkle in your eyes. This sparkle that I see before me now, before it dimmed, before the distressed face and darkened eyes took over. I am dreaming. I know that I am dreaming because I don’t feel the heaviness, the sadness, the tightness in my chest. All is light. All is you. All is now and forever.

I walk up a slight step and there you are. It is brightly lit. Are we in a store? Are we buying an apple juice on our way to the park? I see you. I see you. You, too, are brightly lit. You are dressed in a summer popsicle top and shorts, with bright neon socks you picked out yourself, now you are wearing your green sweater and skinny long blue jeans, and now your little brown coat and brown winter boots you called your “tough boots.” Your clothes change each time you turn. I know that I’m dreaming because you are young, small, smiling.

I see you. Your bright, peachy cheeks, your little forehead that arches up when you ask a question. Your sweet little clasping hands. I hear your bold little voice. I know that I’m dreaming because I see your long hair. Shiny and straight, it flows out over your scarf and hat, one of those your mother knitted so diligently for you. Your long hair that shined and swayed before me as you walked ahead with anticipation wherever we would go, with a simple joy for the day.

I see your bright, shining face, your whole shining being. Yes, you are smiling. That gleam in your eye as you turn, a little ballerina, a happy girl. I see no anguish, no fear, no pain of self-doubt. The doubt that would later pull you inward, revealing the outward signs of your inner monologue changing from joy to sadness. I know that I am dreaming. You are there. I see you. Your tiny, long legs, so strong from so much walking, running, climbing, pushing your scooter faster and further on. Strong, before screens seemed to take away your strength and your vision. Before the thin ice took you under and the world took you over. Before the counselor we never thought not to trust gave you a grave and terrible lie.

I say it again, louder this time. I see you, I see you. I love you. I know that I am dreaming, because I see you there. Lord, if this is not my last moment, let this be my vision when it comes. This very vision of you, my beautiful daughter, simply happy, anticipating a beautiful day. Without fear, without worry. I still see you, sparkling. Lord, let this vision of her, this image of You, be what lifts me through when I go, only to be replaced by the memory of when she returns. For that hope above all else, I will live another day. When it does end, Lord, let this vision, this dream, carry me over, whenever you are ready, to eternity, where I will continue waiting for her to come home. An ROGD dad