So far, it's been a rough week. I've purposely tried to keep to myself, in fact I haven't left the house. With Valentine's Day yesterday and my birthday coming up on Friday, I just needed some space, to grieve, to reflect, to be alone. I've been writing like crazy, using that to try and keep my mind off what was, and what should have been. It's very hard. Today was another morning I woke up crying. I know I must be dreaming of Bill, but I can never remember the dream. Most of the time I just get up. Staying in bed is pointless. It was still dark out when I made my tea. I woke Aislinn to get ready for school and sat at the table waiting for the dawn, thankful that Valentine's Day was behind me. I was going to go with my daughter, Cathy, this afternoon, but we've been having trouble with the furnace and Papa Chuck and JoJo were coming over so he could look at it. All day I had trouble with my phone. Every time I picked it up there was a big white musical note on the screen. I know I have music on my iPhone, but I never listen to it, in fact I don't listen to any music right now, so I couldn't understand why I couldn't get rid of the note and only have my home screen. I did everything I could think of. I closed all my apps, more than once. I shut the phone down, well just everything to get rid of it, but it wouldn't budge. Great, I thought, another thing that isn't working properly. My granddaughter came out and I handed it to her. Please get rid of this, I asked. She has an iPhone also and knows them inside and out. Caitie did everything she could think of and nothing worked. I guess you'll just have to listen to it, she said handing it back to me. This is what played. I wasn't familiar with this song and looked it up. It was recorded the year I was born, 1955.
Needless to say I cried my eyes out. If anyone could say they love you after death, it was Bill. When Cathy got home she showed me a picture she took at the end of the road. There floating in the cold air right in front of her car was a shiny, red, heart-shaped balloon. We live in an extremely rural area. The odds of seeing something like that are a million to one. Thanks for reminding me how much you love me, baby. I needed this so badly. I was blessed to have you in my life, and you continue to touch my heart. It means so much to know you're still around. Just like my ring says, 'Until we meet again', you are forever in my heart.
1 Comment
Keriann McKenna
2/15/2017 10:02:52 pm
The spirits of our loved ones mess with electronics all the time to get our attention, to say things they want to say...but the balloon...wow, that's powerful.
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This page is now my blog/journal about Widowhood. I'm not qualified to give advice. I'm new at this. I don't want to be qualified. I don't want to be a widow, but no one asked me. These are my thoughts, fears and feelings. Please don't equate them as anything but that. Archives
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