Father's Day Waffles with Cardamom-Vanilla Strawberry Rhubarb Compote & Whipped Coconut Cream

My dad occasionally visits me in my dreams. In the beginning, I had these dreams much more frequently. They’re so vivid and real, he’s so vivid and real, that in the rawness of fresh grief, they were devastating to wake from. My dad has been gone almost three years (this August) and while I still wake tearful, with the scar of loss newly opened once more, his dream visits have started to feel like something else. Like a gift. Like an extra, stolen moment of time I get to spend with my dad, however fleeting.