February 12, 2008

• Anger.

   

  He doesn’t come around much anymore.

   

  In the beginning he would visit often, finding his way into my dreams as if part of him refused to leave me alone on this earth as the last man of my family.  Perhaps it is because he feels I no longer need him, as I now have a family to call my own, or perhaps it is because the wound left behind after he died has healed…but visits by my father have become few and far between.  A few nights ago, however, I saw him again. 

   

  One of the benefits of being in a dream is that you can exist at any age in your life, but still maintain the memories and wisdom of who you are today.  This one started with me as a married man, walking away from my wife after an argument.  What we were arguing about, I do not know, but does it matter?  Does it ever matter?  I then was transported to the beach as a child, frolicking among the waves without a care in the world, without the burden of responsibilities to shoulder.  A wave came and went, leaving behind sparkles in the sand.  Curious, I looked closely and saw a diamond…and another…and another.  I brushed my hand across the sand, revealing multiple diamond rings.  I picked these up in a hurry and ran home.

   

  “Daddy,” I said, “I found these diamonds at the beach!  We’re going to be rich!”  But instead of echoing my enthusiasm, my father, in his younger, healthier days, sorrowfully looked away and walked into the next room.  I followed him, asked for an explanation and in response he told me that once when he was angry at my mother he threw her whole treasure chest in the ocean, something he has always been ashamed of.  That treasure chest is what I had found.

   

  I went back to the beach and found the now uncovered treasure chest again.  There were diamonds and pearls, bracelets and jade, but in the corner there was a photo album which had gone unnoticed previously.  On the cover was a picture of my mother, young and beautiful, and the inside was full of pictures of my family, but something was wrong.  I didn’t remember having any memories of the moments these pictures captured.

   

  I woke up then, wondering what the dream was supposed to mean.  I don’t pretend to know whether God allows our loved ones to return to speak to us in dreams, or whether He uses the memories of them to teach us a lesson, but this was not just another dream.

   

  I watched my wife as she slept beside me, the sound of her breathing as soothing as the sunrise on a new Sunday morning.  I thought about our last argument and then it hit me…

   

  Any moment spent living in anger is a moment spent living alone.

   

  The reason why I didn’t recognize any of the pictures in the album was because the stories they portrayed never occurred.  When my father threw out the treasure chest in anger, he also threw away memories that would never be formed.  He threw away moments he could have spent loving his family.

   

  Anger, you see, only serves to separate us from the ones we love.  How many times in our lives do we lose out on happiness because of it?  “A moment of anger can lead to years of regret,” my father was telling me.  “Don’t let that happen with you and your family.”

   

  Looking at my wife I thought that no amount of anger is worth increasing the space between her and me.

   

  There are some dreams that are forgotten, but not this one.  Not this one.  I won’t let it be. 

   

  So I laid my head on my wife’s chest and listened to her heart beating, counting them one by one while I closed my eyes hoping that I would see him again soon.

  —–

  Have a great week!  Don’t forget to eat your vegetables and scrub behind your ears!  And happy Chinese new year!

  • 9:24 am
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