Longing for dad's voice

Last night I dreamt about my dad. We were in the same yoga class. I arrived late, wearing jeans, flustered, without a mat. Everyone was looking at me like I was an annoyance, then I turned around and there was my dad with his walking stick, wearing his boots, big khaki shorts and white buttoned shirt – his uniform – being who he was, setting up his mat and water bottle at his own pace.

- Jennie Ridyard

He smiled at me and waved like I was doing okay, and I woke up with tears on my cheeks and a heart filled with love. God, I miss my dad.

I miss him randomly, sometimes so badly it floors me. He died five years ago in April – today is not even an anniversary, just a missing person day – and before that he went through a period of being the most frustrating person on the planet.