While in England, in high gear with three little ones and their parents, I continued to re-read my blog posts from last year at this time. Each night on my living room mattress I allowed myself a few minutes of quiet time to travel back to those difficult days, hoping in some way to participate again in Nate’s life. Last fall our whole family was pacing together toward the sad conclusion, and reading the details was hard. Nevertheless, going over each date’s entry felt like visiting with him, despite the distressing nature of the posts.
And because he was the last one on my mind as I drifted into sleep, it was inevitable I’d eventually dream about him.
The dream I had last week was emotionally stressful, the kind that caused a pounding heart and made me wonder whether or not it was really happening. In the dream, I was part of a crowd of people milling about in a room full of conversation and laughter. Both of Katy’s parents were there, which made me wish Nate was there, too.
And then suddenly he was!
Busy greeting friends with his familiar handshake, he didn’t see me in the crowd. I frantically pushed my way through the mob to get to him, and when I finally planted myself directly in front of him, he smiled and responded with a hug. It felt warm and familiar, although something strange was also going on. Others in the room seemed to have as much claim on him as I did, to the point that I was bumped to the side and eventually swept up in the crowd while it swirled around him.
Stumbling backwards, I lost sight of Nate and suffered a terrible sense of emptiness while my eyes darted back and forth, craving more contact with him. Eventually I spotted him again, but he was heading for the door, so I ran after him shouting, “Nate! Wait up! Please!”
He turned and smiled at me, not an excited or eager smile but the same peaceful expression he’d shown me before. I ran over and threw my arms around him, holding on with all my strength, determined not to let go this time. As he hugged me back, I felt an intense warmth flow through me, almost like an electric blanket, and was aware it was something unusual, maybe even supernatural.
But then he let go. When I continued to cling tightly, he didn’t re-hug but patted me on the back instead, like a parent pats a child who’s been hurt and is crying. Although he didn’t speak in the dream, somehow I got his clear message, “It’ll be OK. You’ll see.” But just like a wounded child not yet ready to receive comfort, I continued to be upset, breaking into tears.
(… to be continued)
“He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden His face from [her] but has listened to [her] cry for help.” (Psalm 22:24)
I took care of my husband for 28-1/2 years after he became paralyzed in an accident. It has been 14 months since he died and just the other morning, I heard him call me when I was in bed. In the past, when this occurs, I’ve usually been asleep and it wakes me up. This time, though, I was awake. It startles me so that I jump and start to go to him, it sounds so normal. Then I look at the bedroom door and realize that nothing on the other side is normal. He’s not there. It’s just part of the “wave” of grief that ebbs and flows, catching me unaware. Every second of the day I’m aware he isn’t here; every second of the day I’m aware my Heavenly Father is.
Margaret, in reading today’s blog, and while reading Lee’s comment, above, this Hymn popped into my head: “Oh that will be … Glory for me …Glory for me … Glory for me… When by His Grace I shall look on His Face … Oh that will be … be Glory, for me!”
I haven’t known how to comment, lately, with any words that seemed sufficient – but please know that you and your family are very much in my prayers right now.
In my heart, I’m with you…hurting for you…loving you.
We hear you. Please know that visiting in England was a first step – and now accepting the pat on the back is another one – if you accept it – and go on passing to your family the freedom to have new dreams – make new plans – make new friends – have new dreams – look forward – take a break from looking back lest you break – healing time comes when the scab comes off and the new skin covers the boo boo. Nate is not coming back but you will one day enjoy heaven, too. Only you AND NATE will hope the children will go on – not weeping too long – but being all they can be to the end. LIVE until YOU die.
Don’t DIE because Nate did. We are empowered by God to be all we can be no matter what. We believe you can move forward now and resist looking back. We want to read your words soon speaking of how the grandchildren need Margaret having new joys and new projects and new friends and even new outings and new happy times. Allow yourself – empower yourself – free yourself – then Nate can enjoy heaven even more knowing you have accepted that he is ok. Now you be ok, too. Your family members need you to be ok.
We need you to be ok, too. Only you can live as one who has much to live for. The trip to England should prove that to you – those there need you healthy and strong and forward looking. Stop lingering at the tomb and go on building the kingdom of God where you live. As Sandi Patty sings, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLGTXz-txTY
copy this web address and hear this empowering song – and go forth with new power and new dreams. XOXOXOXOXO
Dreams are a way of processing our deepest emotions which are difficult to translate into a rational definition. I have experienced dreams like yours with loved ones who have passed on. I believe it the Lord’s way of helping us to a place of reassuring comfort and another layer of closure. Praying for you and your children at this time. much love from TLC
Margaret – please feel free to review your memories as much as you need to. During this year since Nate went to be with Jesus, I’ve seen you embrace the present and future while going through the grieving process. There is nothing wrong with reviewing and reflecting – particularly as you constantly remind us of God’s loving hand throughout all of it. Thank you for the privilege of being able to walk along beside you. Love you.