Just a quick note from my new tablet with a wireless bluetooth keyboard (I’m so fancy now!) Here’s a couple of pictures from our Christmas! Hope your holiday was wonderful, I hope to be back writing more soon.

On the day you died, Casey woke up and told me that he had a wonderful dream about you. You were 20 years younger, and telling him about a wonderful meal you’d just eaten.

On the day you died, it was raining the morning.

On the day you died, “What a Wonderful World” came on in the car on our way to work, and I looked over at Casey – the tears streaming down his face mirrored mine as he whispered, “My Mom loves this song.” 

On the day you died, I cried all the way to work after I dropped Casey off. I couldn’t shake a terrible feeling.

On the day you died, I glanced at my phone at 11:47, saw a missed call from Casey, and knew you were gone.

On the day you died, the sun came out at noon and we wondered if you were lighting the day.

On the day you died we held each other. We cried, we remembered. We said so many “I love yous” as we tried to fill the void you left.

On the day you died Casey and I fell asleep holding hands, tears streaming down our face silently in the darkness.

On the day you died, the world didn’t stop spinning, but our world did– at least for a moment — as we took time to honor your time on this Earth and wish you well on your journey to the next.

I wish you so much love and peace in your next journey, Charlene. And know that I will keep my promise to you – I will always take care of your son.

Spread your wings, fly without pain, and may angels lead you in.

I spent the last two days home sick. For the record, I am terrible at staying home sick. I get frustrated when I don’t feel well enough to do anything. I couldn’t even read. So I slept. And watched terrible TV. And talked to the dogs. And counted down the minutes until my Mom or Casey got home from work and I would have someone to talk to.

Today at work, the alarm was going off all day. All day there was a muted “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” sound. And at about 4pm the repair person came and shut it off. And it was quiet.  I hadn’t even realized how much noise was there until it wasn’t there anymore. Isn’t that always the way though? As the saying goes, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. You don’t know how loud something is in your life until it’s quiet- until something is gone. I love our lives here, but sometimes the absence of my best friend, my person- is deafening.Especially in the quiet.

Tomorrow will mark 3 years since Casey had the stroke. 3 years that were never promised to me, but I’m so grateful that we’ve had. We will celebrate, because we have so much to be thankful for.

Saturday, we will walk in a “Making Strides for Breast Cancer” 5k, and know that it has been over a decade now that my Mom has been “no evidence of disease.” Cancer-free. And we will celebrate, because there is so much to be thankful for.

That’s life- the ups and downs and all arounds. Thankful, grateful, and everything in between. What a great ride it is, isn’t it?

We’ve been married for FOUR years. So we returned to the scene of the crime.

Maine was beautiful and kind to us. And I got to give this one a bunch of hugs. But I miss her already.

And we got to hug Casey’s parents and spend time just being.

And then we came home. And it hits me all over again, that home is not a place or a destination. Because when we were in Maine, we were home. And when we came back to NC, we were home. And home is when you are with the people you love.

And then I turned 31.

Or 21, since they were out of “3” in the grocery store.

And I’ve applied to be a “Big Buddy” which I’m excited about.

We haven’t heard anything about our foster care license, still biding our time, and getting more excited by the moment.

The days string together to make weeks, months, seasons, years.

Like Christmas lights.

Which we get to put up soon!

What have you been up to?

For most of my life, we were inseparable.

I’ve been dragged to daycare that had smelly feet all around, concerts that left me wondering when did enemy by imagine dragons release, and first sleepovers (and every sleepover thereafter).

I’ve played dress up, doctor, and school (her tests are pretty hard).

She gives me funny voices that she pretends are mine, because she likes to imagine what I might say to her.

But the scariest of time –  was a time I was lost to her. I got put away during a cleaning spree and she couldn’t find me.

For days and days she looked for me, but couldn’t find me.

And clearly, I couldn’t yell for her to find me.

So I waited. And waited. It’s hard to know how much time went by – was it days? Weeks? Months?

I’m not sure, after awhile time runs into itself and it’s hard to keep track.

I couldn’t help but wonder, had she forgotten all about me? Did she just not need me anymore? Did she put me here on purpose?

One day the cover was lifted from where I was and I saw the light of day again.

Her joy was permeable, as she enveloped me in a tight hug.

Here she was again! The familiar embrace, that joyful laugh.

“SNUGGLES! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” she exclaimed.

Oh how excited I was! To be held, and loved, and even cried on again.  I appreciated it all so much more.

Taking my rightful place on her bed again, I was content.

And that night, as she drifted to sleep using me as a familiar pillow – I realized, that we all get lost now and again – and that the reunion  almost makes the being lost worth it.

___________________

Responding to a prompt on “Write on Being Lost Using personification”… For more adventures of Snuggles, read here…

When I picture you, you’ve got a twinkle in your eye, sitting in your rocking chair, laughing at a joke you’ve just made – the kind of sarcastic joke that takes me a minute to figure out if you’re being serious or not.

When I picture you, you’re in the woods. Trying to tell me the difference between deer poop and bear poop, even though to me – it’s just poop poop. You’re patient, despite my non-stop pleas to go inside and play another hand of Old Maid with Grammie.

It’s not hard to picture you, even though it’s been over 20 years since you’ve been gone. Your laugh is burned into my memory, and your sly smile plays out on my own mother’s face every day. Uncle Jeff calls it a $hit-eating grin.

When I think of you, I hope that you’re proud. Of the incredible strength you instilled in your daughter, my mother. In your son, my Uncle. In your family, in me.

When I picture you, in Heaven, I stop to consider whether or not I really believe in such a place. What that place looks like. And I still don’t know, but I like to think of you joyful, somewhere in this universe, knowing that you are far from forgotten. That you are thought of every day, that your quirky sayings and bad jokes are told all the time.

That your great-grandchildren will know you, from the tales we will spin about you (the size of the fish gets bigger every time, right?).

We love you, Gromp. Happy Birthday, wherever you are!