Friday, July 22, 2016

Beachingtons 2016



I dreamed about you last night but it wasn’t bright and airy like usual.  I could tell it was more of an anxiety dream-- I couldn’t see your smiling face.  You were with us, we had you back after all this time, but you weren’t feeling better, and nobody was happy because we were back at square one.  I wanted to give you a big bear hug and get that reassuring Arlene hug right back, but you didn’t move or even turn around.  Dad said I looked sick, he told me I was gray.  I woke up crying.

We’re headed to the beach on Sunday for a week, our first official vacation trip without you (I don’t count Kimmy’s destination wedding as a beach trip, there wasn’t any sand!).  I actually haven’t been nervous at all, I’ve been super excited.   And we’re bringing the Fritz family!!!  I’m finally getting Michael to the beach.  :)  I just wish you were still here.  I just know we would all have so much fun sitting in the sand, chatting about everything.  Drinks of the day, and cooking seafood, and of course Esther Williams apparatus routines in the pool.  Kirkland still loves when I play guitar, and I can’t wait to get wagon wheel going for him.  And now we have new additions to play “finish the cooler” with us.

I know this week is going to be awesome, and I’ve been feeling a lot better lately.  What I’m trying to say is, I’m going to focus on enjoying myself because I know you wouldn’t want us to sit around and cry at every little memory (and there are going to be a LOTTTTT of opportunities for that).  I’m going to dedicate my vacation to enjoyment and satisfaction rather than wallowing and worrying.  I’m going to let go and relax, and I’m going to laugh and smile when I remember you.  You were the one who taught me how to have the best kind of beach vacation ever, and I’m going to have it and not waste it.  And I’m going to believe that you’re proud of me for dancing in the rain instead of sitting around waiting for the storm to pass.  

If I shed a tear, I shed a tear, but I’m going to wipe it away and keep drinking and laughing and smiling and floating.    For some reason, I feel like everything’s falling together instead of falling apart, and I’m just so grateful you introduced us to this world of sun and sand—it won’t be the same without you, but in some ways it’s going to feel just as if you’re still here.