Dreams

My first clue that it was a dream should have been that I was wearing lipstick.

The second clue should have been when I entered some sort of Goblet of Fire maze on a ferry boat.

The third one should have been when it turned really violent.

But those didn't wake me up or clue me in to the fact that I was having a Craaaazy dream.

The clue that got me though was that it was Mom in the center of the maze.  In a dark, dank, bathroom putting on her own lipstick.  And doing a really poor job of it.

"You know you're dead, right?" I said to her...

"Yeah, I know.  But I didn't know if anyone else knew it." She replied.

"You have to go now" I told her... "you can't be here."



And then she was gone and I was awake.




I spent the next hour panicked.

She's visited in my dreams only a couple of times.  

What if in telling her to go, I sent her away for good.

I tried to get back to sleep, back to that place.

But the place was gone and so was she.

and now I'm left fearing she won't come back.

Promises Kept

A few Sundays ago, in the Sunday School class that James and I attend, we were talking about keeping and breaking promises.  Our lesson mirrors the lessons that the boys are hearing at the same time.  We were asked something along the lines about a time when we were younger and a promise was made and then broken and how we felt about it.

I couldn't remember a single example.  

If my parents made a promise, they kept it.

I learned it early on, so I've tried to pass it along to my own kids.

So I made them a promise, and I as much as I didn't want to... I kept it.

I held it together as much as I could.  I was choked up in the car (a fact that Keegan was kind enough to point out) but didn't have the hysterical sobs I feared.

They were curious.  They looked her stone all over, they checked out the dates and all the pictures.  We walked around for awhile.  The boys both have Murphy in their name, so they liked seeing that, and finding the other Murphys also buried there. 

It was time to go, so I turned my attention to getting Courtlynn buckled into her car seat.  I turned around to tell Suttie Joe to get in... and saw this.

My.heart.shattered.

My WORLD shattered. again.

He was telling her goodbye.  

He turned to get in the car and he was sobbing.

He doesn't even remember her.  But he can't help but be devastated by her loss.

I sobbed with him.  And told them that they could take all the time they needed to tell Grandma whatever they wanted to say.  We unbuckled, and Keegers was the first to say his private words.  

Suttie said his own prayer to Grandma, asking her to not go away again.

And Courty just wanted to take care of her brother.

There weren't as many questions as I thought there would be.  Keegan wanted to know what your heart sounds like when you are having a heart attack.  Or how the workers knew that she was dead.

Suttie wanted to know if we had to go back.

I kept my promise.

Even though it broke some hearts.

So we're going...

"Mom, can you take to me to the place where Grandma is buried?"

The tears fill my eyes immediately.

"I would really like to see it Mommy," Keegers says from the back seat.

"Me too!  I want to see it!" Courty pipes in.

"We haven't ever been there Mommy.  Have you ever been there Mommy?"

I have to compose myself before answering.  Because I don't know what to say.

I've been there once.  On an icy cold December afternoon.  When our tears fell and we put our hands on her coffin and said goodbye.  

I've stayed away.  

I've stayed away because I don't need the tangible reminder that my mom is dead.

I've stayed away because on that horrible day I convinced myself that her coffin was a magician's cabinet.  That whey they closed that lid, God allowed her to slip unseen out the back.

When Dad got the tombstone with pictures, and quotes, and high heels, and trucks, and horses, and anything else that he could stick on that hunk of stone, I stayed away.

"Don't you want to see the tombstone?" Dad asked over and over in the beginning,

"I'll see it eventually, Dad.  You can't live forever."

"I just can't Dad.  I'm not ready." 

He stopped asking.  

I've stayed away, but in doing that, I've kept them away.

I try to pull myself together.  I know that I'll fail.  Then through the tears I say, 

"Keegers, if you want to go Buddy, I can take you.  Mommy just hasn't gone because it makes me sad.  But if you want to see it, I will go."

"Mommy I don't want to see the statue where Grandma died.  It would make me too sad," my Suttie says.  

"That's fine Suttie Joe, if you don't want to go, you don't have to go."

"Maybe I do want to go Mommy," Suttie hesitantly decides.

I've stayed away because I needed to, but they don't want to stay away.  

They want to go.  Maybe they even need to go.

I'm still not ready.

I don't think I'll ever be ready.  

But they are.

and if I learned anything from my mom, it's that we take care of their needs first.