Paradise Found

I had such a beautiful dream the other night that really moved me. About a friend.

I never thought you would visit me in my dreams in a million years, it really took me by surprise.
You walked out of you old truck with my friend, it was a bright hot afternoon. I didn't see my girlfriend's face, she passed me by and walked to the front porch of my house.
And there you were, you wore a white cuffed shirt and some black jeans. Something I could never imagine you wearing. You seem so happy, so peaceful. You aged it seemed, you brown hair faded to a salt and pepper gray.
And you looked at me with those big piercing blue eyes. They glowed in the dream, like they were lit up by the sky. You stared me right in the eyes and gave me one of those mischievous smirks. You told me "Hey, kiddo, you take care of my girl now," and you winked at me, then turned and walked to your car. It faded to white as I slowly woke up by the sun hitting my eyes.

Bill was born December 19, 1957 and passed away from natural causes February 11, 2012. 


I promise I always will, Bill. I'll always make sure she is doing fine, doing healthy, and is thriving. That she never settles for less than what she deserves and is happy. That she continues to be the beautiful person she is and always continues her life as the talented artist she is.

I feel like, I really didn't trust you when you were alive. I was apprehensive of you, really.
If he has the ability to read this or hear it in my heart, I am sorry. I'm sorry  it took me so long to thank you like this, as well. I know you really enjoyed my art, as I did yours. Here's a little something more.

I wish I could have gotten to know you more. I appreciate everything you did for her, you graced her with such kindness and love and respect. You were such a great friend. With an understanding honest heart, and very funny as well. She really needed something to believe in and it was you, and it will always be you. I know you'll always look after her. And I know you want her to be happy, for her to keep moving.
The last time we saw each other, you dropped her off at my house. You walked up to me, held up my face with a gentle hand and kissed me on the forehead thanking me for being a doll. 

No, thank you. If only I could do the same now. 
Thanks, Bill. 

Love, Izzy.