By Keith's Sister, Cindy
I was visiting my friend in D.C. in July, a few months after Keith had died. I had been thinking about him a lot during this trip, and feeling sad. But the long drive back from a beach in Delaware was especially difficult, as it gave me a long stretch of uninterrupted time to think about his death.
exhausted from the long day, I fell asleep quickly and deeply. I had a
dream that I was in the back seat of a car again, on a long trip again.
as before, I was crying and crying, and feeling inconsolably sad. I was
thinking about Keith, and thinking how he was gone forever. I was looking
out the car window, at all the birds and the fields and the buildings
and the cars, and all I could think was how Keith would never see any
of this again, how it was all over for him now. And how it was all over
for me too, how I would never have him as a brother again, and I would
never be able to have a beer and talk to him about this trip.
Just then I
realized that Keith was sitting in front of me and driving. He must have
heard me crying and, without turning around, he reached his right hand
back through the two front seats. As if by instinct, I immediately reached
out and locked my fingers with his. Our hands fit together perfectly with
only our fingers touching: curled and locked together.
As soon as I touched his hand, the most amazing change happened. I was immediately overcome by a feeling of peace as deep as my recent feelings of despair. All my questions and all my sorrows were completely washed away.
The dream continued on for awhile after this, with nothing else happening. Keith just continued to drive and the two of us continued to hold hands in silence (Keith never even turned around to look at me). But this experience of infinite peace, more intense than anything I've ever felt in waking life, continued to hold me completely. I felt a profound comfort and I had no other thoughts.
When I woke
up, I wished that I could hold onto that sensation forever. Of course
I couldn't. But I like to try and remember, so I wrote down this dream.