Monday, April 24, 2017


I had a nightmare last night and I wanted to write it down.  I'm not sure why.  No one reads this anymore since I've only written once in almost 2 years, so this is just for me.  I don't want to post it on Facebook and have people commenting on it.  It's too personal, but I do want my grief recorded.  For me, for my kids.

I had one of those horrible dreams last night.  The kind where it feels so real that you would swear it was happening.  Not the floaty feeling, time has no meaning dream, the kind where every minute is accounted for and it is happening in real time.  The kind you wake up from and you don't realize you've been dreaming for several minutes.

I dreamt that a beloved family member was sick and getting sicker.  I dreamt that I couldn't accept that it was real and happening.  I refused to believe that she was just sick and I needed to accept it.  I traced down medical records, interviewed people, contacted the police over and over again, and risked my life in an undercover operation to reveal the culprit.  Things got hairy, but in the end the villain was revealed and taken away into justice.

Walking away from the scene, I ran into my cousin, and bruised and bloodied I was able to tell her I had fixed the problem.  I had found the horrible monster and he wouldn't be poisoning our wonderful family member any more.  We hugged and turned to walk down the street together.

Then I woke up.  I felt elated.  I felt invincible.

Then it hit me.  It was a dream.  I didn't save anyone.  My aunt is still gone.

And I cried.

I cried because I miss her.  I cried because I didn't see her much in her last year because I was always sick from having to work around 8 year olds.  I was mad that I couldn't go to Thanksgiving to see her one more time before things got bad.

I cried for the sound of grief I heard come from my grandpa at her funeral that I will never forget as long as I live.

I cried for my cousins that lost their biggest cheerleader and champion.

I cried that my kids would have so few memories of someone who helped shape me into the responsible hard working person I am, and loved me even when I wasn't.

And I'm still crying.

1 comment:

Julia said...

This is too sad. Aunt Diane was such a wonderful person. And writing that in the past tense makes me tear up. (But I was very excited when my email notified me that you had posted--I love your blog)