Dream, Think, Cry. Repeat.

The last couple of weeks have been very difficult.

My grief weighs me down.

I cry every day.

Missing Michael is everything. It's a part of everything I do.

I dream of him almost every night. So many dreams that I can't remember them all. But they are the only way I get to spend time with him now, so I welcome them. They don't really make sense, but I don't care.

He's there.

He's healthy.

He loves me.

I can feel him.

Talk to him.

See him smile.

Hear his voice.

But dreams don't last, and I wake up in our bed alone and face another day without him.

I spend a lot of time thinking about what the Bible says awaits us in Heaven, and what Michael may be experiencing there now. I wonder how long it will be until we are reunited. How many more weeks, months, years, decades until this awful separation is over? I know that even if the Lord delays His return and I live another fifty years that it's really nothing compared to the eternity to come - an eternity in which we may not spend every moment together, but one in which our reunion is always for certain. I will never again have to worry for his safety or worry about his health, nor he for me.

I contemplate what Jesus said in Matthew 22:30:

At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage;

they will be like the angels in heaven.

And that makes me a bit sad because there's nothing I'd like more than to resume my life in eternity as Michael's wife. But, I'm sure that Heaven will not disappoint me because of that, or anything else for that matter. I cannot make it what I want it to be. If I were able to, it wouldn't be Heaven.

I extrapolate (with a little help from Randy Alcorn) from Revelation 6:9-11 that if the martyrs in Heaven are "fully conscious, rational, and aware of each other, God, and the situation on Earth" that Michael is too. While I believe he is well and living in peace, I am certain that he remembers his loved ones and misses us as much we miss him. The other night on Facebook, Michael's teenaged, Christian niece posted that she was missing him right after I'd had a good hard cry over him. I responded to her post, letting her know about my crying episode, and she wrote the following to me:

so did i.i watched the video aunt cathy made from the funeral about his music.

sometimes i just listen to that or one of his albums just to hear his voice again.and even though it makes me cry and makes me sad, i think to myslef that its better then not hearing him at all.

it's funny that i keep thinking he's gonna be there this summer, or christmas, or just to visit, or that he'll sign us into disneyland....

but i know that he's here.watching over us all.and even though we cant see him it doesnt mean he wont be there.and no matter how much we miss him, he misses us just as much if not more.

and i know for a fact that he misses you the most.

i'm always here to talk. or if you ever want to hear a story about him for when you werent with us.

i'm just a phone call away.

love,

kiana

I was amazed at her ability to echo my own thoughts and comfort me. She's only 14 or 15 years old, but she gets it. Out of all Michael's nieces and nephews, she was the one who would call him in the last weeks of his life just to tell him that she loved him. She's a neat girl.

I leave you with this, because it sums up my life these days:

Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.

C. S. Lewis