I'll see you in my . . .

I've passed the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th. There will be the 13th and there will be August 19th, but it was last weekend that I felt looming and that I both dreaded and welcomed. I made it through, with a lot of help from my friends, family, and Ky's friends. I spent time with several, got calls and emails and notes from others. They were thinking of and praying for me and Mir and Gear. Every message was an embrace. They (you) got me through.

I had a gift in the night. I dreamt of Kyle when he was about 3 years old, about the age he is in this picture, taken on their first day of school after we moved to Eagle Rock. Miranda heading off to Eagle Rock Elementary and Kyle to Eagle Rock Montessori. Except in my dream his hair was shorter.

I don't remember much, but the dream went on for a long time. At one point Kyle was holding my mascara and someone (I think it was MY mum) was concerned, but I went over to him and let him hold it with me as I put some on my eyelashes. Was I ever so gentle and caring as I was in this dream? I only hope so.

I never put a lot of value on dreams, but now they are treasures. I got to see Ky again, so sweet and earnest. My beautiful little boy.

Last Night I Had A Dream . . .

actually it was the night before last. And Kyle was in it. It was only the second time I have dreamt about Kyle and it was wonderful to see him again. This picture (sent recently to me by Maria H., who lived in Ky's dorm when they were freshmen and who stayed a good friend) was kind of like how Ky looked to me in the dream.

Like most dreams, it was illusive. I awoke and couldn't remember the whole thing. I do remember holding Ky's face and stroking it and talking to him. I knew he had died or was going to die and I knew he knew it too, but I said something like, "Things are not going to turn out" or "Things are going to be bad" and then "but right now we can enjoy this time."

The earlier part of the dream felt like the real-life illusory nature of a visit home from Kyle. He'd be rushing in, rushing out, in his room, off at the beach, out with friends. Getting him to actually light on the couch or at the table for long was not easy.

That was what was so memorable about his last visit home. He hung out more. He laid down on my bed and listened and indulged his mother's going through her Scotland slide show. He took time to talk to me about his girlfriend Laura, whom he clearly loved. "She's different, Mom. You'll see. She's special. I want you to meet her." He even organized all his stuff and got ready to go (Sallie drove him to the bus) in a timely fashion. Almost as if he were savoring his time with us.

I still am surprised, although not shocked, when I remember each day that he is not coming home. I do hope he'll be hanging out in my dreams again. And I hope I remember more of the dream next time.