I knew before going to bed last night that I would dream of her. As yesterday plodded on slowly, bits of memories of her were passing back and forth through my consciousness like unsettled tree leaves before a storm: visions of her face in every emotion, sound bites of her voice in every circumstance. It is a dream I have often. Sometimes the setting changes a bit, and linear time as we understand it is suspended as conversations held over many years are replayed in random order in my sleep, but it is always her and I engrossed in discussion of subjects as frivolous as the neighbors new curtains to the depths of the moral depravity of modern times. She would tell me her greatest fears, the things that hurt her most over the years. She would tell me of the dreams she still held on to, though she knew they would never be realized, and the hopes she had for all the children in the family. This is where I learned the true meaning and power of hope. I shall always be grateful to her for this invaluable lesson taught ever so quietly over so many years. Even as time is always blurred in the dream, I knew in my heart that dawn was coming, that the dream was ending and she would be lost to me again. Always lost again, and that is the hardest part to handle these past four years. I could feel the hot tears springing forth and staining my pillow before the dream faded, vanished and still as the sun rose this morning I could hear her laughter, so clear, so real, so here. Laughter so strong she cried, joyous laughing.....and that, no matter how painful the loss, is a beautiful sound. You are loved and missed more than words can say Jane Caroline, my grandmother
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 04:09:25 +0000
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