Just was wondering how things are going for you....hope and pray that things are better. God Bless, Nora
I'm doing ok. Lately, I've been having these moments of "oh my god, I can't believe she's gone." But I have to keep reminding myself that she isn't far.
I got a job offer that I'd been hoping for and that my mom had been rooting for me to get before she passed. I had a very vivid dream in which I told her the news and she gave me a huge hug. I'm pretty sure that was a visit. :)
Things with my dad are ok. We don't talk about the situation. He continues to complain about the cost of my mom's funeral, her headstone, blah blah blah. It's baffling that he doesn't realize how distasteful that is, but whatever.
Good to hear from you. I also have those moments....it's like a dream...will I wake up and go downstairs and she will be in her rocker. When I go down in the mornings to check on my Dad I go by the bedroom door....she was always there in her hospital bed....I will say...Mom I love you and miss you. It must be so much harder for you with the situation with your Dad. Congrats with the job and how wonderful you had your dream and visit with your dear Mom. You are so very right...they are not far away...with God's love neither death or life can separate us. God Bless, Nora
oddtree- congrats on the job you'd been wanting :)
and it would seem the only thing you can do for fools is leave them to their fates-
an old friend of mine came to the funeral with her father (she didn't want to drive the whopping half hour) and he managed to insult just about every person there- including the girl who sat with us by my father while he passed.
we just kind of let him, like we let my brother be (he hadn't spoken to my dad in 4 years, was 7 minutes from the hospital on saturday and couldn't be bothered- but told my mom she shouldn't wait to sell the sports car.)
Karma tends to come down hard on people like that sooner or later, so the best thing to do is withdraw to a respectful distance, and make some popcorn.
and aren't the dreams wonderful? I started writing his eulogy at 6:30 sunday morning, having woken up with the vision of him just waking up, and a particular looking black and white dog with fluffy ears and a heart as big as- well, as big as dad- sitting on the pillow he had just vacated, looking very proud of herself.
and I got the feeling that he would be anything but lonely or frightened, and that he'd pay us proper visits just as soon as he caught up on long-absent friends.