Only in my dreams

I see him everywhere. At first when he died, I cried out for him to come to me. He never did and I felt lost, alone and angry. He appeared to others in a dream, but not me. Why? Did I do something wrong? Did I not love you enough?

I felt him one day. I live in the country and had a long drive home. The day he died I was driving into the sunset. I felt him. He touched my knee. I knew it was it by the way the feeling comforted me. I know it’s weird and people don’t believe those things, but I do. I think it was his way of reassuring me that he is ok.

I had a dream one night with him in it. He came to me and told me three things. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember what they were and I was so angry at myself. I struggled all day to focus on my dream and what he told me. The next day my sister called and said she had a dream about our Grandpa. She said he told her three things: that he is at peace, that he is with his family and that he knows we are having a hard time and how people should back off a little. That’s so him. Always trying to protect us. My sister went on to say that in this dream, we were in the ICU hallway. The long, dreaded hallway to his room. The hallway i’ve grown to hate now. She said he was standing against the wall, alone. He was telling her these things but his lips were not moving. Instead, these sentences were coming out of my mouth. She said it was like I was reading his mind. I immediately told her about my dream and how I desperately tried to remember the three things he told me in my dream, with no such luck.

I don’t know about you, but I know this is my grandpa. I know his spirit or something of him is appearing to us. Most people think it’s crazy and that its just my subconscious trying to protect me and keep his memory alive. They may be right, but I need to think my way right now. I need this to keep his memory going.

I’m so afraid. I’m afraid someday that his memory will be long gone. That no one will ever remember who he was or the things he did. I want the whole world to know about my grandpa. I want to keep his flame burning ever so brightly.

Not much more to write about for now. Things have pretty much been the same. I feel as if, at any given moment, I am experiencing all “steps” for dealing with grief. Sometimes I really even wonder if this is real. There goes step one again: DENIAL. Gosh, I absolutely hate admitting that this is real life and at this given time my grandpa is really dead and gone. Thinking this makes me feel so broken. So lost and vulnerable. I hate that this is reality.

Tonight I will lie awake, like I do every night. My mind will race of all the what-ifs, should have dones, and everything in between. Tonight I will wish my another moment with my grandpa. Only in my dreams….

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Ashes to Ashes

Today it hit me. My Grandpa died in the ICU 2 weeks, 5 days ago. I haven’t stepped foot into another ICU, which is very odd for me seeing that I work in a hospital. Today I had to go into the ICU. I didn’t think anything of it. Went right to the patient room and laughed and joked with him and his wife. Told them goodbye and I turned the corner and it was like I was there. It was like I had just put my hand sanitizer on and walked through the doors to his room. I couldn’t breathe for a second. I wonder how my face appeared. I kept going. I didn’t want to. I wanted to just stop in my tracks and cry. I didn’t. I still remember it as if I were there yesterday. Sitting at his bedside. Cracking jokes with my family and the nurses because it hurt to much to cry. I still remember what he looked like as his spirit left his body. His poor body. It was so bruised and battered. He was in a car accident. I hate car accidents. They have claimed three people, all of whom I love dearly, in my life. Gosh I miss him.

I was lying in bed tonight. Thinking about him. About his sweet face. Contagious laughter. I thought about his smile. Then about how his lips looked as he took his last breath. I thought about how they stitched them for the visitation. He looked so different. They had to cake so much makeup on him. They stuffed him. That is so strange. I forgot about him being cremated. His ashes are with my mom, along with my aunt and uncle. I couldn’t sleep tonight thinking about this. Funny how my thoughts keep my awake. Strange the things I think about. Gosh, I still really cannot believe he is gone.

Gone. I hate it.

Why do we wait until after someone is gone to want to have spent more time with them? Why is that? Why do we kill ourselves working a million hours and push our family to the side? Why do we neglect the ones we love, until it’s too late? Family is everything. I hate how a tragedy is the only thing that brings a family closer. It’s pathetic. There are so many things I learned about my Grandpa after he died, that I wish I could’ve had those conversations with him.

He loved the Lord. I always knew deep down that he did, but never knew to what extent. He used to take my sisters and I to church with him and I never thought too much of it. He collected Bibles and used to give a few to us. I still remember where they are in my parent’s house. On the top of the banister at the top step, collecting dust. What a shame. I would have loved to have conversations with him about the Lord and his walk with Him. I wish I could have shared my journey. It makes me sad that I didn’t spend enough time with him. I could never imagine my child doing the same with my mother or father.

Something has to change.

I kept telling myself and my family this phrase. Honestly, if it takes God calling my Grandpa home for us to grow closer as a family, then it is worth it. I hate to admit that, but it is. I don’t want his passing to be in vain. Today I make it my mission to carry on his legacy through our family as we grow closer together. If this means we miss a little work, so be it. If it means, we ditch our friends for our family, fine. If this means we go the extra step, even if we don’t feel like it, then it’s worth it. Grandpa you are worth all the hurt and the pain to carry on your legacy. Unconditional love.

I love you.

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Blue Skies, Broken Heart

They say the first stage in coping with death is denial.

I wouldn’t know.

I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. One day he’s here and the next, he is gone. Gone. The end. I’ve never know what to say in situations when someone loses a loved one. I never think too much of it. Now the tables have turned and I’m forced into the spotlight of grief. When she called me that Wednesday morning at 10:21 AM, I was busy in my routine. She messed it up. She messed up my life. This messed up my life, my routine, my normalcy. This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Not like this and certainly not now.

 He really is gone.

I find myself all too often thinking that phrase. I hate it. I hate thinking it. I hate that it’s actually true. I miss him. Everyday. I’ve never seen death up close and frankly, never wanted to. I fear death. The thought of death makes me anxious, nervous and all I want to do is run somewhere and hide. I start to panic and get hysterical and cry. I wasn’t ready to face death head on.

My grandpa died exactly two weeks ago from the result of a horrible accident that left him broken and unconscious for a week and one day. I’ve never watched someone die. It was awful and that’s all I keep replaying in my head. The breaths he took. How they slowed down to where I heard his last one. It was rainy that day. Right for the occasion I suppose. I really couldn’t believe that my grandpa just died. He was too young, too active. I thought he would live forever. Well not really, but longer than this. I thought I had more time. Time is a sneaky thing. It creeps up on you and before you know it, it has run out. I wanted my time. I still want more time.

I feel like I’m forgetting. I don’t want to forget.

God, I don’t want to forget.

I’m a Christian. I love God with all my heart and I know my grandpa is in heaven, but it’s still hard to accept. My grandpa was a good man. He was a character, that’s for sure. He loved his family unconditionally. We didn’t always love him or express it. I hate that. We felt like he bothered us at times. I wish I could have those times back. I never will. I have learned so many things about my grandpa and the man he was because he died. I wish I would have asked him these things before. I still hear his voice and laughter. I hope I never forget those sounds. I know he’s free. Of the horrible pain he was in. The shape he was in after the accident. His spirit is free.

I don’t know how to deal. I get so angry with people and just want to hide. I just want to cry. All day. Sometimes I wish I could just freeze life and cry. It’s weird to think how life is still happening all around me while I am dealing with this. I want to go home. As in heaven. I want to be with him. I don’t want to deal with life anymore. I hate the routines, the busyness, the anger and hurt in this world. I know God has a plan for this and I know I’m meant to stay to raise my child and love my husband. Life is short. It is not guaranteed. It is gone in an instant. I’ve learned that I need to change. I don’t want to have hate in my heart for anyone or be broken or bitter. I want to live life to the fullest and love everyone. Even and especially the unloveable. I need to carry on my grandpa’s legacy of always showing love. Unconditional love. I love my grandpa. With all my heart and I miss him like crazy. I will continue on with this life and charge on through this grief. I will draw near to the Lord and let Him comfort me and ease my pain.

I will forever love you grandpa. You have been set free.

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