Tag Archives: Living

Wow ……

…… that’s all.
Just …… wow.

When last I left you, I had seen Sting in the Park.
Question: And yes, I know I could Google this, but what is his real name? Does it say “Sting” on his birth certificate, because if so …… bad parenting anyone?

Yesterday and today I read a book.
Seriously.
Book club is tomorrow afternoon.
Never let it be said that I don’t get things done …… when I want to.

I’ve also been to some barre classes and on some more walks through the Park.
Fall has not yet graced us with its presence, but it’ll be here soon. I hope.
The weather hasn’t been cold enough to turn the leaves yet, but I did happen upon two beautiful trees.

Tonight I went to see this play:

The cast changes every 6 weeks. Right now it stars Carol Burnett and Brian Dennehy.
People who know me well, know that I have loved Carol Burnett since I was much younger than I am now. Much.
When I think of her, I think of home.
I think of growing up, watching her show every Saturday night, while my mom put rollers in my hair for church the next morning.
I have memories of high school, and college, and continuing to admire, respect and love her talent.

She came to Houston to do an evening of Q & A. Jim took me to see her. She showed a video that contained a lot of clips from her show. I found myself crying during that video. I’m not sure why, except for the memories it brought, and the feeling of home.
Jim died later that year.
Wow ……

So anyway, I loved watching her tonight.
I went to the stage door afterwards, mainly because I was walking that way and there was room for me right at the very front.
I hoped she would come out. And just the thought of her doing that, made me teary. I knew that if she walked through that door, only a few feet from me, I’d be blubbering all over her.
So it’s probably a good thing that she didn’t.
But Brian Dennehy did.

Wow ……

And just in case you’re planning a trip up here between now and mid-February …… here’s the other casts coming up:

Yep. Wow ……

Yesterday I awoke to find a text from a friend on my phone.
She wrote that she was very upset over a comment someone made on my FB wall.
I obviously hadn’t seen FB yet, so I opened up my computer and went to the site.
Wow ……

Something less than a firestorm had been unleashed.
By a “friend”.
All because I posted the night before that, as I was updating my children with pictures of a certain baby, I started missing Jim. A lot.
That’s it. That’s all I said.

Here’s what she said:
“With all my love and obeying the voice of the Lord. I want to tell you Janine your time of mourning is over. It is time to enjoy the life God gave you. It is time to renounce to self pity party. The Lord is not done with you jet. You got to finish the race but rejoicing on the Lord. This life is precious and temporary. Forgive yourself, forgive God! Jim is in Heaven with our Heavey Father and you know that you will reunite with him. God is more important than any person! It is time to put things in order. The word of God saysocevthe Lord your God above anything else, no your husband, no your children.
The Lord is your Husband!!!!”

She also quoted the verses from Ecclesiastes …… there’s a time for everything. Some of them say this: (I’m not quoting exactly, just giving highlights)
A time to be born, a time to die, a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time to mourn, a time to dance.

This “friend”, whose husband is very much alive, who has no idea what it is to grieve for the loss of half of your heart, for your future, for your children’s grief …… told me that my mourning is over.
Wow ……

And here I thought I was moving forward with my life, moving to a new place, enjoying the life I have, making the most of the days I have, etc.
I thought it seemed pretty evident that I am no longer “in mourning”.
Heck, I don’t even wear black that often …… even in New York!!

I have about 30 minutes of feeling sad and missing Jim, and I’m told it’s a pity party.
Wow ……

But do I still grieve? You bet.
Do I lay in bed and grieve and cry and spend a day in grief? I do not.
Not in a very long time.
Grieving and mourning are two different things, in my mind anyway.

Grief will always be with me, back in a corner of my mind, and my heart.
There will always be a thought, a word, a picture …… an event …… that will cause me to miss him …… and bring tears to my eyes.
Always.
And I’m ok with that.
I will never stop loving Jim.
Even if I’m blessed to have another love.
God came, and will continue to come, first in my life.
Jim was second.
The kids were third.
And we were all good with that.
Now the kids are second.
And will most likely remain second for a very long time.
And I’m good with that.

After the shock of reading that post, I briefly felt anger.
But then anger was replaced with something like pity.
I feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t experienced a love so deep, so strong, so …… forever.
I feel sorry for anyone who thinks they are the voice of God. That’s a lot of power to mis-use.
I can’t even fathom speaking for God.
Judging for God.
Wow ……

For those of you who read this blog …… and are widowed …… I pray that no one ever, EVER says those things to you.
You will grieve as long as you will grieve.
You will move forward at your own pace.
You will do things in your own time.
No one should judge you for how you grieve.
NO.
ONE.
Especially someone who has no idea.

Never let someone tell you that you’re doing it wrong.
Never let someone make you feel bad, or wrong, or crazy because of how you grieve.
Never.

But if that ever does happen, please know that you can come here.
You can email me, message me, call me.
I’ll be here.

You are not alone.
It will get easier.
Hope matters.
You will love life again.
Wow ……
🙂

Life Is a Wee Bit ……

4 Replies

…… busy.
But then I’m sure that’s news to no one. 🙂

I spent the weekend in Oklahoma and returned to Houston today. It was pretty much a last-minute decision. Every Wednesday United Airlines comes out with a list of “cheap fares” for the upcoming weekend. Last week Tulsa was on the list, so I called Vicki and asked/told her that I was coming up to help.
I can’t remember if I wrote about this or not, but when she had surgery after she broke her leg very, very badly, her foot basically had to be re-attached to her leg. You know, with metal plates and screws and fun stuff like that.
As difficult as this might be to believe …… the surgeon attached it at an angle.
And not in a good way.
When she would put her legs out in front of her straight, her knees would both point up, as would her left foot. But her right foot was turned outward …… which was a little freaky to see.
Her surgeon didn’t think it would be a big deal, but she (and everyone else in the world, especially HER world) disagreed, and encouraged her to make an appointment to tell him that she wanted it fixed.
Which also meant that the weeks she had spent going to/working at physical therapy, were a complete waste of time.

But, she had a second surgery a week and a half ago, and now she’s back to square one. No weight bearing on that foot for at least three more weeks and then hopefully she can start PT.
She may still be using a walker/wheel chair at Christmas.
Bummer.
But hey, at least her right foot is on straight.
🙂

The first time I went up to stay with her and help out (about 2 weeks after the first surgery), I walked into her house and she came out of her bedroom, using a walker.
I looked at her and said, “You know, I knew that this day would come …… I just didn’t expect it to come for another 20 or so years!”.
And though she was unable to walk, we really did have a great week.
As we did this time (only it was less than 9 days this time …… and only about 3). Both times I was the chauffeur for her and her lovely 12 year old daughter. I also helped with the house, the laundry, dishes, etc.
Nothing spectacular (except helping her organize her jewelry and board games cabinet …… and you know how much I LOVE to organize!), just the every day kind of housework things.
Oh, and I made great margaritas.
And home made Bailey’s drinks …… were are WAY better than Bailey’s. 🙂

But we also spent time just sitting and talking …… both times.
I got there Saturday afternoon, while her family was at OSU for the football game that evening. She and I watched, and loved, that game. GO COWBOYS!!!!

People have been very nice and have brought the family dinner a few times a week, which is so wonderful when you’re off of your feet, or just had a baby, or are in shock from grief. It’s nice to not have to have to think about what to feed your family because someone wonderful brings all of you a warm meal.
Or almost all of you.

I told her that I was going to blog about this, because I find it hilarious, and a bit stunning.
When I was there the first time, this little old lady from their church brought dinner over one afternoon. She didn’t stay to chit chat, nor even acted like she wanted to stay, but she told Vicki what she had brought for dinner.
And dessert.
She had made chocolate chip cookies.
And she told Vicki, not once, but twice, “I made those cookies myself.”
Ummmmmm, ok? And thank you very much?

She and her grandson took the food into the kitchen and put everything on the counter and then left. I let them out the door, since Vicki was stuck in an office chair (it had wheels so she could roll around the house). Then we both walked/rolled into the kitchen. The woman had made a roast with vegetables. A roast that she got out of Vicki’s freezer, then took home and cooked.
She also brought cookies.
Here’s a picture:

Yep, your eyes are fine.
Yep, there are only 3 (THREE) cookies in that bag.
Three.
There are four people living in that house, and I’m not one of them.
That sight was the most hilarious thing I’d seen in a long time.
And it was made more hilarious by her pointing out that SHE had made those cookies.
All three of them.
What.
The.
Heck?!

When you make a meal for someone, do you make a recipe and then only take about an eighth of it to the person’s house?!
It was just soooo funny.
To be fair, the woman also brought three small chocolate chip muffins.
Which really doesn’t change anything.
It’s still hilarious.
And yes, it was very nice of her to make dinner.
But it was still hilarious.

Fortunately they’re still getting dinners. And Sunday they got an entire 9×13 pan of brownies.
🙂

And now I have a question for you.
See these?

Do you notice how similar they look when they’re face down?
Yeah, well, they’re not so very similar when you brush your teeth with the wrong one.
I’ll pause while you laugh.
And I hope that you pee your pants.
:-p

Yes, I brushed my teeth with Clearasil.
Or rather, I started brushing my teeth with Clearasil.
It didn’t take very long to realize that Crest was not in my mouth.
Or on my toothbrush.

Live and learn, Peeps.
Live and learn.

In other news …… this time Thursday, I’ll be in NY!!!!!
WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP!!!!!!!!!!

Can you tell that I’m just a teeny bit excited?
🙂

And even better, I really don’t have much packing to do!
I’ve packed one empty suitcase inside another empty suitcase.
All of my fall/winter clothes are in NY and I need to bring some back.
Other than that, I’m taking my Tulsa suitcase and it’s still packed.

This means that I can spend time binge-watching “The Black List”!
It’s SO good. I didn’t watch it last season, though I wanted to.
I always have problems watching shows consistently. Especially shows that you should watch each week to understand.
Maybe it’s a commitment issue.

So thank goodness for internet, Netflix, and network sites that allow you to watch their shows.

It’s now after midnight. I need to go so that I can finish the latest binge. I think I’m on episode 8 or 9.
I may have to start it over since it’s been well over 12 hours since I started it, and I couldn’t figure out why it didn’t look anything like the end of the episode before. Nor did it explain why. One minute/end of an episode someone’s getting shot in the head, the next minute/start of the next episode the setting is completely different and everyone who was captured by bad guys, are no longer captured.
That may be another reason that I didn’t watch it during the season.
It fries my brain.
Which really doesn’t need any more frying.
Really.

Happy Wednesday, Peeps.

And be sure to make certain that it’s toothpaste you’re putting on your toothbrush.
I’m just sayin’ ……

A Sample Day ……

2 Replies

…… of my life in NY.
(An alternate title of this post could be: “A BOATLOAD of Pics!”
You might want to pace yourself.
Over a week or two.)

And only a sample day. They’re not all like this.
But a lot of them are close. 🙂

The day before I flew back to Texas, my alarm went off at 6:30 a.m.
I was supposed to meet up with my friend, Jeni, to walk a mile or so and meet up with a group of Manhattan Women’s Club members.
I hit the snooze button.
Twice.

And then I just happened to wake up …… at 7:19 a.m.
Seriously.

Jumping out of bed, while experiencing heart palpitations and yelling out a curse word is not the best way to start the day.
Trust me.

But, since I seem to sometimes do my best under pressure, I managed to shower, dress, put make up on and race walk two blocks …… all by 7:36 a.m.
Yes, I’m that good.
Kind of sad, isn’t it?

Then Jeni and I walked to meet the bus. We ended up race walking because we thought the meeting spot was about 6 blocks before it actually was.
I know.
We were only about 7 minutes late, and thankfully we were not the last ones to get there.
Whew.

Jeni was smart …… she went to the long back seat and napped the two hours it took to get to Poughkeepsie (OK, I have to say that I just love saying that word. What a great name to be from. I have no idea if the town is a great place to be from, but I love its name. Say it … it’s fun! Oh, and it’s pronounced Poe-kip-see. 🙂 )

I was jealous.
And very tired.
But I perked up when we got there.
Thank you, Dr. Pepper.

We chartered a bus to the Hudson Valley to walk over the bridge (from the Poughkeepsie side). The bridge is 1.28 miles long and 212 feet tall.
Funny, it seemed longer and higher.

Here are some pics:

See? I told you it looked longer than that!

It’s also THE longest elevated pedestrian bridge In. The. World.
Impressed?
You should be.
This is the view of the Mid-Hudson Bridge, a.k.a. the “Franklin D. Roosevelt Bridge”.

A tug boat!
He was pushing a lot more than he was tugging.
(Or should I say “she”? Boats are supposed to be shes, but I seem to remember some children’s story about a boy tugboat. Anywhooo …. I digress. Terribly.
Sorry.
Welcome to my brain.)

The mid-way point. Does it look like less than 3/4 of a mile?
Me, either.

This is a view from the other side. I thought this house was so pretty with its blue door and its flower boxes.

Next stop: The Culinary Institute of America.
Or CIA, which, I confess, was a bit confusing on the first email. I kept thinking we were going to THE CIA, but knew that we’d have to go to Langley, VA for that tour, so that didn’t make sense.
Again, welcome to my brain.

Back to the cooking place.

Mostly everyone there (who were students) wore the comfy-looking uniform of grey pants (roomy pants, kind of like scrubs) and a white chef’s top. I think I’d go nuts trying to keep the top white. For one day.
Too much pressure.

Inside where our group had lunch. It was a fixed menu (kale salad with asparagus, grilled sea bass and veggies, and cheesecake). It was a very tasty meal.

We saw this lovely waterfall on the way out. I was trying to hurry to get a pic, so they’re not great, but you get the idea.
Hmmmm, I wonder if that statement would work for a picture of half of Niagara Falls? “It’s not a great picture, but you get the idea.”
Somehow, I doubt it.

The C.I.A. (the cooking place) is located in Hyde Park. Interestingly enough, Franklin Roosevelt’s home, museum and presidential library are located there, too.
So we went to see them!

This is the library … and our tour guide.

There were about 20 of us and then a good-sized group from Texas.
Whoop! They were an older crowd and were very nice. They asked us about NY and what they should see and do the next day there. I felt so New York-ish to be able to answer them. 🙂

This was FDR’s birth-home, childhood home, and his home-away-from-White House-home. The only place he thought of as “home”. And I can’t blame him.

These were the barns. Pretty dang nice for a barn, wouldn’t you say?!

Going in through the front door (as opposed, I guess, to the back door … whatever):

FDR greets you upon entering. A young FDR.

First floor living room:

This was Anna Roosevelt’s (FDR’s very “in control” mother) “office”.

And this is her picture. She looks like a formidable woman.
And she was.
Very.

First floor “family room”

Foyer

OK, I’ve decided to split this post into two posts.
You’re welcome.

Tomorrow I’ll post all of the pictures from the second story of the home, the inside of the Library and the grounds.
That’s going to be another boatload of pictures.
Sorry that there are so many, but I have to say that when I go visit something in NY, I feel like I’m visiting it for all of you, too, so I want to take as many pics as I can (interesting pics, I hope, for the most part).
Many of you have said (more than once) that you’re living vicariously through me, which is a fun role that I don’t take lightly. I want you to feel, as closely as possible, like you were there.
Of course, you’re free to exit right out of this window any time you’d like. I realize that looking at other peoples’ pictures isn’t very exciting for most people, so I don’t take it personally.
Much.

So, Happy Wednesday/Thursday, Peeps.
I’ll post the rest tomorrow …… or at least that’s my plan as of 11:52 p.m. Central Time.
I also have to do laundry and pack for San Diego before early Saturday morning, when I get on yet another plane.

Whoop!… ?
(Yawn!!!)

🙂

Ladies and Gentlemen ……

Torn Between Two Cities ……

3 Replies

…… well, not really two cities. There’s no way I can ever be torn between NY and Houston.
Like, ever.

But at the moment I’m feeling torn between two homes.
Which I guess is a good way to feel?

I am absolutely in love with my new home in Houston.
Deliriously and happily.
So I just might be missing it a little.
Who’d’ve thunk?

I closed on it May 1st and then I never spent another night in the other house again. Which meant a lot of tossing and turning on a not-very-comfy-futon, but I didn’t care.

The other house is now empty, except for a few pieces of furniture that Daughter #2 will pick up when that house sells.
Please God, let it sell soon.

I flew to NY on Sunday. I had planned to fly up here on the 15th, because Daughter #2 is coming up here for a few days to visit and celebrate my birthday. But then I received an email, reminding me of the Drama Desk Awards on June 1st (the DD Awards are for all things Broadway and off and off off). You see, I had purchased a ticket to these awards, but in the craziness of moving, I had forgotten that small fact.

Now, in the scheme of most things, that small fact wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s not a huge show and the ticket wasn’t expensive. But when I remembered that I had a ticket to it, I also remembered that I had a ticket to the mother-of-them-all-Broadway-award-shows …… the Tonys.
Yes, THE Tonys!!!
How could I have forgotten that?!
Evidently pretty dang easily.

So I had to change my airline ticket, because while I had no problem passing the Drama Desk Awards ticket to Daughter #3 (which she graciously took and enjoyed) there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to miss THE TONYS!!!!

So, I left Houston on Sunday morning, planning on getting in around 4:00, thus, getting to the apartment around 5:00 which would leave me plenty of time to get ready and get to the show before 6:30, because the doors close at 7:00 (even though the televised show doesn’t start till 8:00).
Are you still with me?

Son #3 took me to the airport, but only after what became an hysterical hunt (hysterical on my part) for my notebook/calendar/keeper of important things. I take this notebook with me everywhere I travel. And I usually take it anywhere important to keep appointments and documents in it until I can file them away. Yes, I use my phone to input appointments, but having been through a computer crash a couple of times, I will never fully trust technology with all things important.
Evidently I will never trust my brain with those, either.

After about 10 minutes of searching the house, with my bags already in the Son’s car, I was in full-freak mode.
That’s because the notebook held my Tony Awards ticket.
See?
Understandable now, isn’t it?

By that time both sons had joined the hunt, even though I know that they were thinking, if not discussing with each other, that the time to put me in a “home” was not far off.

Thankfully, I found the notebook underneath some mail, and then we were off to the airport.
Where, so it seemed, half of Houston had decided to spend the day.
And they had all joined me in trying to fly on United. AND, they were all also “preferred” flyers.
I have to tell you that, being a preferred flyer, is not what it used to be. In fact, when you get in line at security in Houston, United has a “quicker” line for its’ preferred customers. And most days, that line is far longer than the “regular joe” flyers line.

So we all waited, and waited, and waited some more to get a turn at one of those “self serve” screens (which really aren’t all that “self serve” when you have to wait on an employee to come ticket your bags and give you the receipts). There were far more flyers than there were employees.
But, I finally made it through and breezed through security. The plane started boarding within a couple of minutes of my arrival so I sailed through that part, too.
I should’ve known.

Once we all got on board, an announcement was made. For some reason that no one knew, our flight was going to be delayed by about, oh … about 20 minutes. It might be bad weather in NY, but no one really knew. All they knew is that it was coming from there and we were delayed.
Again, I should’ve known.

Because a twenty minute delay is never really a twenty minute delay. And instead of saying, “we’re going to be delayed for about an hour”, they just keep repeating “20 minutes” every twenty minutes, which is mostly aggravating.

So instead of arriving in NY at 4, I arrived after 5. But, I still figured that I could get to the apartment by 5:30 or so, and have enough time to change, put on makeup and walk to the theatre.
Which I would’ve been able to do, had it not been the day of the Puerto Rican parade.

I’m pretty sure there’s a parade every day in NY somewhere. And the majority of them are probably on the small-ish side and over with in less than an hour. And most people can smile and wave and think, “Oh, how nice …… a parade!”, and then go on with their business.
Not so with the Puerto Rican parade.

I have no idea why, but this parade is known to be one of THE most wild events of the year. And not “wild in a good way”, but “wild in a “don’t go outside at all while the parade is passing way”.
Yes, seriously.

So there I was, stuck in parade traffic with a driver who made double sure that the doors were locked. I never saw the parade, but I guess the traffic was still being effected.

So I arrived at the apartment sometime near 6:00.
Which means that I had to race to unpack my dress and makeup and then get into both so that I could get out of the door by 6:15.
I think I made it out by 6:20.
I wore little flat ballet-like shoes (which matched my dress) and carried my heels (which also matched my dress) in my purse. Which did NOT match my dress but was at least big enough to hold my heels.
I looked weird.
A woman speed walking through the streets of NY, holding up the hem of her formal dress so that everyone could see the dorky shoes she was wearing and wondering where the heck she was going.
Not really.
People in NY don’t look at anyone and wonder where they’re going.

I finally got within a couple of blocks and started fitting in with the men in tuxes and more women in formals. I stopped to change my shoes before I approached the doors to Radio City.
It was so cool because the other side of the street was barricaded at the curb and there was a throng of people (is that an actual word?) watching all of us and taking pictures as we were going in.
There’s going to be an awful lot of disappointed people with me in their pics.

I had a fabulous seat, the center of the 2nd mezz, on the isle. Clear shot of Hugh Jackman. Wow!
Now, this was not the closest I’d ever been to Hugh. I saw him twice on Broadway and was much closer, but just being in the same room with him is enough for me.
So cute.

The show was terrific, he did a wonderful job hosting, and everyone had a lot of fun.
I loved keeping my FB friends apprised of all things as they happened. It made me feel like I had 100 friends there, sitting with me.
I had seen almost every show that was nominated and was happy with the way it turned out.
And happy that I videoed every musical number as it was performed. I think this is probably the one time during the year when the ushers don’t swoop in and nab your phone for taking pictures. There were phones everywhere … all night.

Sunday was a very busy, sometimes stressful, day. But it was wonderful.
Except for the fact that I woke up that day thinking it was Father’s Day. And I didn’t have time to call any of the men in my life to tell them Happy Father’s Day, until I was walking/running to the Tonys. That’s when I called my Dad, who thankfully didn’t answer, and told him Happy Father’s Day on his voice mail.
Then I felt horrible when I arrived at the apartment close to midnight and remembered that I hadn’t called the other two dads. (Don’t ask.)
I just figured I’d call them the next day.
Imagine my surprise when they were still doing Father’s Day things on the Today Show. It then dawned upon me that I just might have been a wee bit off. I opened my calendar and saw that, indeed, I was a week off.
And felt like a moron.
And yes, my dad called me later. I didn’t say “hello”, I just picked up and said, “I know it wasn’t Father’s Day yesterday. I’m a moron.”

Or maybe someone with WAY too much going on.

I’ll try to do a picture post later.
Happy Thursday.
🙂

I Wonder ……

2 Replies

…… what the hell was I thinking??!
These last two days I’ve been packing up the house by myself.
Alone.
Solo.
A five bedroom, 5,000 square feet house.
This.
Is.
Insane.

The first two days I had the help of a few friends, for which I am very, very grateful.
Especially after doing it by myself.

Yesterday the packing became very emotional, so maybe it was a good thing that I was alone.
Although if I’d had someone to help, maybe they could’ve done the emotional stuff.
Like the refrigerator that had a multitude of magnets on it.
Magnets that we collected from every place we visited/vacationed.
And from every Broadway show we’d seen.

I didn’t really see that coming.
I was just working my way through the room, and then I was next to the fridge. So I grabbed a bag and started removing the magnets.
And about 30 seconds in, the wave hit.
And then another, and another, and another.
Sigh ……

And then there was this:

The wall that I measured the kids on every August.
Deeper sigh ……

I had a desk that had a glass top on it. Beneath the glass I had placed pictures. A whole lot of pictures, from many different years and stages. I loved having those pictures there.
I didn’t love having to gather them back up, although I did smile a lot at the memories.

And then there were these two items that Sons #2 and #3 made me, back in their pre-school days. I hated to part with them, but I had to be realistic.
Sometimes realisms sucks.
Beyond belief.

Now my study looks like this:

Which is kind of how I feel right now …… empty.

And exhausted.

I know that I’ll be ok, and that I’ll be glad to have all of this behind me …… no matter how difficult it is in the midst of it.

Before I post this and head off to bed, I’ll show you something a bit different.
At least a bit different for all of us down here.
The real estate market here in our community has gone a little nuts.
It’s definitely a seller’s market (other than me as a seller).
And just to show you how hot it is in my neighborhood …… here’s a sign that went up yesterday:

Can you read that?
Note that it’s not “for sale”, but “coming soon”!
What the what?!?!

I’ve never seen those words on a real estate sign.
I can only imagine the tizzies and the frothing at the mouth that’s going on around here, just at the thought of another house going on the market.
I may have to hunker down and keep all the windows and doors bolted when that house actually becomes available.

I hope I’m done moving when that happens.
🙂

One of Those Dreams ……

1 Reply

…… that I love and hate.

I love the dream while I’m sleeping. If given a choice, I’d never wake up from it. Because once I do, I hate the dream.
The dream goes from somewhere I’d love to spend the rest of my life …… to something that’s cruel and leaves me feeling cold, hollow …… and sucker punched.

Jim came back. Yep, after six years. My dream was set in the present. As it is every single time I dream it.
I can’t remember what his explanation was, but as usual, it didn’t matter. I was so overcome by seeing him, that the one detail you would think would be important …… wasn’t.

The most vivid part of my dream, the scene that I remember clearly, was Daughters #2 and #3, and Son #1 driving up in one car, and seeing Jim standing on the porch. And then they were all out of the car, running to him and jumping up on him to hug him for dear life (ironic term, isn’t it?).
I cried while watching it, in my dream.
I may have really cried, in my sleep.

One by one, we had all of the other kids come home, too …… without telling them why.
And each one was just as beyond joyful at seeing him.
I remember the joy.

And then I woke up.
This time …… like the time before, and the time before that, etc, etc, etc …… it took me several moments to realize that the dream …… was not my reality.

And that’s the part I hate.
With every fiber of my being.

I went on with the rest of my day. And really, had a good day.
I’m grateful for that. For the ability to know that this dream is not going to suck the life out of me, or knock me down.
Now.

It will not set me back. Even though every time it pops into my head during the day, I feel sad.
I know it’s a momentary sadness.
Even if it lasts a day.
Or more.

I imagine that this dream will continue to come to my nights for the rest of my life.
Just as the sadness of missing him will come to my days.

But I know that’s ok.
It’s just …… one of those dreams.