I never got my bagel or coffee

Woke up at 3AM with Steve Ray Vaughan's song "The Sky Is Crying" in my head... 

Right at the time my husband laid down 6 months ago to die. I was told it took about 2 hours to happen. So at 5AM I fell back asleep and I had the most beautiful dream.

I dream in color all the time.

You know when you see people in your dreams and they look so healthy and good like they were supposed to be all along? 

Yeah, that's what Steed looked like. Thin, blonde shoulder length hair dressed in all black. I dreamt that we were sitting on a couch in a coffee house like a brick/loft building. Not a Starbucks. Just talking nothing important. 

Some people were causing a scene and I went back to the counter asking for my bagel and cream cheese and coffee as if it had been forgotten. 

"No, it will be right out..." I was told. 

Then we walked into a church that used banquet chairs instead of pews. I thought I saw Steed's old friend Al Pesto in the back. 

I asked Steed "Isn't that Al?" 

He didn't seem to think so or maybe he didn't look. 

We sat down and someone that looked like Kevin Federline came up to Steed and said "time to go" and took his hand he floated up to the ceiling. I tried to go with him, but he let go of me. 

It was like those scenes in a movie that the people in the photo are fading away? 

I floated back to the floor and cried on the church chair seat as the preacher waited for me to sit in the chair. Like everyone else. 

Then I woke up to another song in my head that I have now forgotten. 

PS- I thought I lost the last photo of us on my phone and I had no recollection of 'deleting' it until I went to my recently deleted and recovered it. Whew. 

PPS - I never got my bagel or coffee 

PPS- Nor have found my Nashville photo scan disc 

I love this better than anything...

Dear 6 months.

You not quite here by calendar standards but it's coming soon.

A little less than 3 more days.

It's been 6 months.

It seems like it sped by...

Vinyl, Roswell, Athens, Buckhead, Aisle 5, Nashville, Houma soon to be Chicago...

then at home in DC for Chrismas.

Those are my stepping stones.

It will be 6 months in a couple of days.

It was - ten days ago it was gonna be 6 months. Wait? What? I am in the now not the past...

I refuse to be pinned down. I have accepted my weight, my height and my age.

Maybe not that order... but I am working on being alone. I don't care anymore what people say.

These are just things I think at 2AM.

Or 3 in the afternoon.

Or after a few glasses of wine...

I wanna go. I need to stay. I am hungry. No no not another bite. I'll pop like a tick.

This is not going to become me. Death isn't pretty. Wearing black is. So I refuse.

I ain't scared now, but I might be in 6 more.

How do I mark the milestone, a pebble in the Chattahoochee? a good meal? a drive around the block?

Lord knows I can throw...

"So kiss me and smile for me..."

#sleepbetter #gettingthere #waitingforthesun

Someone called me a mermaid...

When Patrick Henry stood up and said "give me liberty or give me death" he must have been speaking about his wife right?

When something is taken from you, a person, a burden or responsibility or a bill that has been looming... you have a rush of relief come over you. A sudden feeling of freedom is now at your feet.

You don't have to worry about it. Anymore. Until the next one. Right?

Yeah. This sense of freedom is something alright. It comes with guilt. So I start over analyzing it. I cry and get angry at myself.

Then I hear and see others react over their own dealings in the same light and I think thank God I'm not like that. So I learn from others and myself to mold my own path. I take what I feel, what I see and hear and throw bread crumbs on the ground to hopefully find my way back. If I want to.

I don't think I want to go back - I will glance around. But no. 

I have others look at me square in the eye and say; "I get it." Meaning you have to be strong. Tall. Not afraid to cry. And laugh.

I have one friend who has given me a key. A new key to unlock a new door. He doesn't know it. He gave me my first guilt trip for having a good time. It was a weekend of full on laughter. I am his biggest cheerleader - think of the Will Ferrell and Cheri Oteri skit from SNL. He's tall and I am short. So I wear high heels around him.

I call him from the parking lot. 

I have another friend that has been with me every step but from hundreds of miles away. We've cried, talked and he told me he put the memory in the icebox. His wife told me too. I don't get it why but maybe a frozen in time thing? We are more like Gracie Allen and George Burns.

I call him Bubba.

Friendships have changed and evolved - come and gone. Friends who once didn't understand my present past - but now get it. That is probably my biggest validation or gift.

I only speak to one friend of the memory and I feel bad about that. But is it really a bad thing?

I have few local friends that I can call. They are new. My old friends are there, but not around. Maybe were never a friend. Just someone I knew in passing. It's hard to start over with stuff. Some things are the same, some are brand new, but always evolving. I don't know if I will get over it but I will get through it. I love the feeling of being. I used to love routine. Now I can only wait and see.

As my sister friend said one night, we are given a gift to be happy again.

I have a list of things that we wanted to do that has now turned into what I want to do. So if I looked like I am shopping a lot. I am. It's called Retail Therapy.