He's Always There

From: Ariana
Story type: Angel
Location: in my dreams
Source: Form Submission
Date submitted: Thu May 22 18:34:34 2008

I am only 14. My grandpa who i call "papa" died last year. August 8th, 2007. Ten days before my birthday. Which sucked because it was my birthday and he was one of the most important people in my life. My dad has been in jail for half my life. Honestly, my step=dad now is cool but I don't look up to him so much as a father figure. Just someone who makes my mom happy and gives me and my brothers and sisters a nice house in suburbia.

Well, back to my papa. Yes, he died. We were close. He was the greatest man ever. Sure, he had his demons. What Marine Veitnam Veteran doesn't? But, he was a great father and papa. If you knew him you would have been just as devastated when I learned he died. I can remember the day well.

That day was the day I was going to let my nephew (2 at the time) swim in this little blue pool we got him. I was thinking to my self that today would be a good day. Well, my mom came home around eleven-ish from work. Mind you my mom work on regular days 7 to 3. Well, she was in hysterics. And I knew. I knew what was going on. But, I couldn't cry just yet. She went to my step dad and he embraced her while she sobbed in his arms looking like a frail child. Then, she mustered up enough strength to tell me and my three brothers who live with me.

First, she told us to sit down. I did. In the rocking chair my papa liked to sit in when he came down to visit all of his family. He lived up north in Wild Rose, Wisconsin. I lived in Racine. My mother wiped her face and told us through tiny deep little sobs "Papa. . .passed away. . .this morning. From a heart attack."

My world came crashing down. I burst into tears because she said it. I could not cry until she said it. My hero. My father figure in life died. His soul had left Earth to join God and the angels. I covered my mouth in horror. I felt really bad for my older brother, 17 at the time. I guess he idolized Papa more than I did. But, he didn't cry at first. He couldn't cry. I called my best friend Heather and sobbed my story to her. She tried her best to comfort me. I rocked back and forth on my bed. Screaming into my sheets.

Papa called every Saturday. The Saturday before he died, when he called our house, I answered. "Hey Ari Bari! How's it goin'?" When I was sobbing to myself I could still hear him saying "Ari Bari" to me in his comforting raspy voice. It broke my heart even more to have that running through my ears for hours until later that night that voice comforted me while I cried myself to sleep. I feel fine now. It still pains my heart a little bit to hear about Papa, but at the same time it is comforting.

I have had multiple dreams with him as the star in them. The first dream was me and my family at a theme park. Like Six Flags. We went into a store (and I was the only one to see him) but Papa was walking aroung the store like nothing. I walked with him for a while but then I had to go. My family and I walked to our van (even though we really don't have one) and he hugged me and told me "It's ok now Ari Bari. I'm fine. I'm happy. Tell Grandma not to be sad any more. I'm fine. Everything is going to be ok." Then he left.

The next dream wasn't really all of him in it. But, it was enough for me. I live in a culd-a-sac. In the dream I was outside and I see a man walking towards me with a trucker cap and walking a dog. Well, the dog turned out to be my Papa's dog Maggie Mae and he was the man. We walked. We just walked. And then he walked away into the fog. I awoke with a sudden wave of comfort. The next dream I was at this resturant called Pinnocheos. In the back booths and my mother is crying. I go to her and she's on the phone and then she hands the phone to me. I start to cry and I hear my Papa on the phone yelling at me (mind you I still hadn't grasped the fact that he was dead)he was yelling at me "Ariana! I'm dead! Ok? Dead! But it's ok. Everything will be alright. I love you. Please, don't cry. Don't hurt. Or I'll break your lower lip."

That was the last dream I've had of him so far. I think it's because I know he is dead. But his soul still lives on. He's in heaven. In enternal paradise and no longer suffering. He came as an angel into my dreams to comfort me. I miss him and I love him and there are times when I wish he were here but it always comforts me to know that he's more happy than he could ever be on Earth and that one day I will join him. I love you Papa. Richard Wallace Larsen November 16,1941-August 8, 2007

Love,
Ariana