The Dreams Don’t Hurt Anymore, They Keep Maddie Closer
Some mornings, I wake up and Maddie’s come for a visit, but in a dream.
It’s like we’ve just had a full-on, real conversation. Like she pulled up a chair beside my bed in the middle of the night and said, “Okay, let’s talk.”
Not every dream is the same. Sometimes we laugh. Sometimes she gives me a hard time. Sometimes we say nothing at all. We just sit there.
But when I wake up, it’s always the same feeling: she was here.
It used to destroy me. I’d wake up crushed. The dream would vanish and I’d be slammed with the silence again.
Now? Those dreams feel different. They don’t hurt the way they used to.
Now, I consider them a gift.
“So, Dad… ten years?”
"Yeah. I know. I still can’t believe it."
“Still secretly crying in public?”
"Yup, wearing my sunglasses indoors is a regular thing with me but less so now. That's progress."
“Progress-ish. You were always so dramatic.”
"Thanks for noticing."
“How are the boys?”
"They miss you. Every day. They just show it differently."
“Zac still pretending he’s okay all the time?”
"Yeah. That’s his thing. But he’s good. He graduated from uni. Went to Europe. Got a bit of life knocked into him. Now working. Volunteering."
“Doing what?”
"Helping grieving kids who have lost a parent or a sibling. I didn’t even know he was doing it at first."
“…Zac?”
"Yeah. I know. I didn’t see it coming either. But he’s amazing with them."
“I always said he had a heart. My little sensitive man.”
"You saw it before I did."
“Zac was always someone special. Always the perfect child. And Sawyer?”
"Still the same. Wild, funny, too smart for his own good."
“Still hates socks?”
"Still leaves them everywhere."
“He remembers me?”
"More than I expected. And when he forgets, he makes things up about you and says them with confidence."
“I approve.”
"They both bring you up all the time, Maddie. Sometimes out of nowhere. Like you're just still around."
“And you?”
"I have good days. And a few bad ones. More good days now. I miss you so much. Sometimes I still try to figure out what I could’ve done differently, what I missed, what I didn’t say. There have been a few times over the last decade that I thought of joining you."
“We said enough.”
"I hope so. I hope you knew how much we loved you. How much I still do."
“You told me. You just also told me to clean my room a lot.”
"You never did."
“Exactly.”
You’re still the first person I think about in the morning.
You’re still the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night.
We built something. It’s called The MentorWell.
“You probably would’ve rolled your eyes and said it was cheesy.”
And then snuck in the back and stayed the whole time.
The MentorWell was built with you in mind.
You’re in all of it, Maddie. Every part.
You’re the reason it exists.
The reason I kept going when I wasn’t sure I could.
I feel like you’re my copilot on this.
Like you’re with me. Quietly steering. Smirking when I overthink things. Nudging me toward the right people, the right words, the right moments.
You might not be sitting across from me, but you’re here.
In every story that gets shared.
In every teen who finally feels heard.
In every mentor who says, “I’ve been there too.”
I used to think I was building something in your honour.
Now I know I’m building it with you.
“Daddy, that’s so beautiful. Thank you for remembering me in a way I feel I can help other kids struggling.”
“You may not be here in body. But your presence is all over this. Some days, it keeps me going. It keeps your memory vibrant and relevant.”
“I love you, Daddy. I guess I’ll see you at the office then?”
“You bet.”
These dreams?
They don’t undo me anymore.
They remind me we’re still connected.
Still talking. Still teasing. Still you and me.
If I can’t have you here, I’ll take the dreams.
Every single time.
If you know someone like Maddie, who could benefit from a mentor; so they can be seen and heard. Let’s have a 15-minute no-obligation call to see if mentorship is right for your teen. Click HERE
