Glimpses of Joy

Every so often I can feel some bits of warmth and joy returning.  I can have a genuine smile.  That nagging grief does creep back up and guilt tells me that I should not feel joy yet.

I remembered something that made me laugh again this morning.  We had gone to this one hair cutting shop back in Napa while we were visiting.  The woman did your hair in quite a strange hairstyle and we both had a laugh about that.  I sat and watched her style your hair wondering what on earth she was doing and what you would think of it.  Oh, what I wouldn't give to laugh with you once again.

I remember how one of our favorite things to do together was eat the small Reese's peanut butter cups.  We surely would have bought some if you had finished the trip to visit me.

Crying in My Sleep

Last night is the first time I remember crying about you in my dreams.  I was sitting across from a little girl who had some travel documents stamped "orphan" on them.  She was sitting with a couple who was explaining to me that her parents had died and she was an orphan.  I was trying to tell them or anybody around me that my sister had died and her daughter does not have a mother either.  I wanted to tell this to the little girl too.  I don't remember if I got to do that, but then I remember sitting across from her and crying because my sister is dead.  I felt the sadness and pain as if I was crying while awake.  I woke up wondering if I had actually cried in my sleep.

Even 4 months later, it can still feel like a bizarre nightmare sometimes.  It just seems so crazy that this really has happened and this is what life will be like form now on.  It's such a huge change in life.

I had a great phone conversation with your husband the other day.  We are all still figuring out communication with each other now that you're gone because it's different.  I'm not overwhelmingly sad, I'm mostly just a dry, hollow kind of sad that doesn't cry.  Sometimes I still cry.  There are still sad feelings to be had.  Life will (and does) have many more happy feelings.  Getting through these sad ones takes time.

I remember one crazy story from when we were little.  I can't remember the exact details, so I will have to ask Mom or Dad because they would remember.  I think Dad was driving his truck with you and me in it.  You were not buckled, because it was the early 80s, and you fell out and rolled down the hill we were driving on.  That's how I remember it anyway.  It might not be very accurate.

When I sit and think of you, I can hear you talking to me, calling me by my middle name, which I always hated to be called by, and I can hear your voice answering the phone or leaving me a phone message.  You used to always start the same way, "Hey! It's me."  You never had to say who you were.  I really miss that so much.

Something Profound

I wish I had more time to write here.  I often think of things I want to write here, ways I'm dealing with my grief and sorrow.  I wish I had something profound to share.  It always feels good to get them out of my mind and written down.  If I worked less hours I might have the time to write more often.

Today I was thinking of the concert we saw Friday night and I thought of what I would say to you about it and what you would say back to me.  It feels sad that I have conversations with you in my mind all on my own because I can't speak to you in person.  It feels like I am trapped in a world of solitude.  Slowly I think I get more used to it and it feels more normal some days to just live without you.

Four Months Later

It had been four months since you died. I am getting a little used to the silence that occupies my life without you. It's isolating. Once again, I'm tired. I work too much and sleep too little. I think bizarre thoughts like what were you thinking of right before you died.

We all grieve in our own way. I want us to all do it the same and that can be frustrating because one person wants to put it off until later and then break down, when I've already done it so often and am at a different part of my grief journey. It's isolating not being able to share the grief with the others affected by the same loss.

Dwelling in the House of the Lord Forever

I saw a sweet video tonight in which a little girl, probably 3 or 4, recited the 23rd psalm. The end states "and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever". It occurred to me that you are there right now.

I've been writing in my prayer journal again lately. It's the best thing I can do.