Everything about this morning is heavy.
I woke up with tears leaking out of the corners of my still-closed eyelids. Aren't dreams supposed to be pleasant and warm? Comforting? Kindred? Otherwise, aren't they nightmares? What if they're neither?
I didn't dream she was alive and well. She was still gone. But maybe that dream would have been easier to deal with...her absence is so ingrained in me that I think even in my sleeping state, I would have known I was dreaming. And it would have been nice to see her face. I miss it so much, so very much more than I ever thought possible. Pictures are lovely things, but they can only go so far in capturing a person. One dimension distortion almost feels inappropriate; like staring at a ghost.
I dreamed that I was going through her old vanity the way I did when I was a child. Pulling out lipsticks that I wish I remembered the exact name of, gently sniffing the perfumed powder I loved to feel between my fingertips. That scent haunts me. To this day, whenever I'm in a new department store, I will undoubtedly wander around the fragrance department absently searching for it. I never mean to wind up there, but I always do.
I pulled out her hairbrush. Ran the soft bristles over the skin of my arm. Still felt the same little-girl wonder I always felt about her hair. So abundant and midnight shadow dark. Always perfectly placed. I reached farther into the drawer and came back with a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it and read. It was a note to us, her family. It contained $35. I don't remember exactly what it said, but it was something about using the money in case anything ever happened to her. And it said she loved us..."Bigger than the moon and farther than the stars." It felt so unbelievably real. Not because the amount of money holds any significance, it doesn't. Not because she had ever said those words, she hadn't. Not because it was written in her handwriting. It may well have been, but I don't consciously know what her script looked like. I wish I did. No, I believe it felt so real to me because it is something I have wished for and wanted for the last 4 years. It seems like such a small and trivial thing, but I would love to have something she had written. A letter. A memo. A grocery list. Some little piece of paper her hands had touched. I cried tears of joy in my dream. And then an over-full bladder caused the pitbull laying next to me to whine loud enough to bring me back to reality. It was the rudest awakening. Harsher than the streaming sunlight in my sleep filled eyes, my hope filled heart broke.
I don't know where to go with the rest of my day. If I'm being honest, the rest of my life. There is so much I wish I could talk to her about. I feel like she knew me best. Her skinny arms always enveloped me more fully than anyone else. I miss that sense of safety. Everything feels precariously balanced, like a gust from either direction will send me toppling. I'm still trying to become that person she believed I would be. Something. Someone. And I don't know how. I want to be happy. I want to be fulfilled. I believe it's possible, but I'm constantly feeling shoved into obligations. I'm stuck in this weird in-between...an adult, but stunted. When did I become this scared person? I used to have so much fight. I want her to hold me and tell me I'm beautiful again. Just one more time. Because maybe then, I could face a world that so often makes me feel so ugly inside.
I dreamed that I was going through her old vanity the way I did when I was a child. Pulling out lipsticks that I wish I remembered the exact name of, gently sniffing the perfumed powder I loved to feel between my fingertips. That scent haunts me. To this day, whenever I'm in a new department store, I will undoubtedly wander around the fragrance department absently searching for it. I never mean to wind up there, but I always do.
I pulled out her hairbrush. Ran the soft bristles over the skin of my arm. Still felt the same little-girl wonder I always felt about her hair. So abundant and midnight shadow dark. Always perfectly placed. I reached farther into the drawer and came back with a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it and read. It was a note to us, her family. It contained $35. I don't remember exactly what it said, but it was something about using the money in case anything ever happened to her. And it said she loved us..."Bigger than the moon and farther than the stars." It felt so unbelievably real. Not because the amount of money holds any significance, it doesn't. Not because she had ever said those words, she hadn't. Not because it was written in her handwriting. It may well have been, but I don't consciously know what her script looked like. I wish I did. No, I believe it felt so real to me because it is something I have wished for and wanted for the last 4 years. It seems like such a small and trivial thing, but I would love to have something she had written. A letter. A memo. A grocery list. Some little piece of paper her hands had touched. I cried tears of joy in my dream. And then an over-full bladder caused the pitbull laying next to me to whine loud enough to bring me back to reality. It was the rudest awakening. Harsher than the streaming sunlight in my sleep filled eyes, my hope filled heart broke.
I don't know where to go with the rest of my day. If I'm being honest, the rest of my life. There is so much I wish I could talk to her about. I feel like she knew me best. Her skinny arms always enveloped me more fully than anyone else. I miss that sense of safety. Everything feels precariously balanced, like a gust from either direction will send me toppling. I'm still trying to become that person she believed I would be. Something. Someone. And I don't know how. I want to be happy. I want to be fulfilled. I believe it's possible, but I'm constantly feeling shoved into obligations. I'm stuck in this weird in-between...an adult, but stunted. When did I become this scared person? I used to have so much fight. I want her to hold me and tell me I'm beautiful again. Just one more time. Because maybe then, I could face a world that so often makes me feel so ugly inside.
Hey Mon it's lil steph :-)
ReplyDeleteIt's amazing how the smallest things, a recipe you feel like she would have made, a sweater or shirt brand new in the store that you know she would have worn, a bird she would have told me facts about, the cards i've saved just to remember her hand writing, the pictures, the smells....they sneak up on you and you're not ready but you are. You don't know how to deal with it but without the little memories where would we be. It's so bittersweet.
These things happen to me everyday. I miss my grandmother more than any words can describe and I'm usually very good with my words.
The way i see it, this is better than the alternative. I have family members who passed suddenly, when i was young, that without a picture coming up I don't remember them. Nothing is reminiscent of my younger years when they were around. And that hurts so much more.
LOVE YOU XO
I was sharing with someone yesterday about my dream that my dad came home from the hospital and later that morning my aunt came to the house to tell us he was gone. I was 13 and the dream is still vivid. Thanks for sharing from your heart Monica. It's a blessing. Judi Kruis
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