If you were still here, I would do anything to hear that
laugh of yours. I remember one specific
trip to the Brookville ER last year where you were eventually moved to an
upstairs hospital room. You grabbed your
phone and wanted to take a selfie to send to Kirkland. You said “Someone say something funny so I laugh
for the picture!” and I looked right at you, arms crossed, serious face, and
said “NOTHING about this is FUNNY!” and you rolled your eyes. Dad immediately quipped with something you thought
was hilarious and you let out a laugh and smiled and snapped a selfie. He could always illicit a laugh out of
you. Today is his birthday and I’m sure
it’s going to be hard for him.
Last night I had a dream where I talked to you again, just
for a second. We were riding in the bed
of papa’s truck – up Shanley Hill, towing the kayaks back to camp after a day
on the river, and I moved my hand across your back and shoulders and asked how
you were feeling. You flashed me a
peaceful smile and took a deep breath and said “Feeling really good”. And that was it, that’s all I get in these
dreams. But they’re a nice little
reminder that it’s better for you to be where you are than where were, you don’t
have any pain now. You have to keep
reminding me of that, apparently. A
short time later in the dream, we were no longer interacting, but a lot of
people were at a bridal shower or some other get-together, and you were there
but I couldn’t really see you from my vantage point. There had been peppermint patties in the favors,
and you had put yours in the refrigerator.
Then, even though I didn’t see you anymore, I could hear your excitement
of having a little chilled peppermint treat when someone retrieved it for you.
The other thing I wanted to tell you is: I re-potted a plant! All by myself (okay dad helped and Michael supervised…). I would have called you to see what to do,
obviously, and those are some of the hard times—when I just wanna pick up the
phone and call you. Anyway, dad guided
me through it. It was a dish garden mom had
bought from the shop and had delivered when Michael first bought our house two
Augusts ago. It’s long outgrown its dish
and I’m terrible with keeping plants
alive…. but this thing is resilient. And
now it’s in a much longer planter along the windowsill in the kitchen with lots
of room to thrive. I think for sure you
would have been proud at that little accomplishment.
It’s evident I’ve been thinking about you quite a lot. I know you’re up there watching us, and you
can’t be worried or have anxiety so I know you’re just taking care of us best
you can. I know you can see dad having a
hard time, but I think we’re all making progress really. If you hadn’t been so awesome, we wouldn’t
miss you so much! For dad’s birthday, we’re
going to eat dinner tonight at Grandma Judy’s house, and your friends and I are
going to take him to see a band in DuBois tomorrow night. That will have to do as a birthday
celebration this year. We know we’re not
as good as you… I know you would have had a card on the kitchen table waiting
for him when he woke up this morning, and some other kind of grandiose plans
with just you and him maybe, if you were still here.
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