The past couple of days have been off. I was feeling bitter but not at any person, just bitter in general and I have no idea why. Today was a rough day. After Brian passed away, I bought a digital picture frame because I don't ever want to forget what he looked like. I asked my three kids to send me every picture of him they had. We all panicked because we thought we were never going to hear his voice again, but in our search for pictures we found a few videos. Well, a few days ago, I was looking at the photos and one of the videos just really hit me and I just stood there crying really hard realizing I would never see his facial expressions like that again or hear his voice or see him ever again. I've gone through these same thoughts a million times but this time it really hit hard. That night I had a few strange dreams but one was about Brian. He was still alive, and he had gone somewhere. I was with my two brothers Bill and Tim and my sister Jessie. Brian, I believe went to visit his brother Scott, but he never came back. I kept trying to call him, but he didn't answer, and I kept saying "I don't know where he is, and I don't understand why he won't answer." I remember the look on my siblings faces.. a look of concern and pity. Jessie showed me a coloring drawn by a child. I think it was Brian and me walking on a beach. The words at the top were written in crayon by a child and it said something about being gone. I didn't get the meaning of the picture and was getting frustrated with them for trying to explain the little kids coloring to me. I was worried about Brian and didn't understand how the picture was relevant. Finally, my brother Bill told me Brian was gone and that he had died. I realized then that Brian wasn't coming back, and I woke up crying, but I felt a little more at peace.
Sometimes it is really hard to look at my pictures of Brian. At times it feels like he is just a picture in a frame like when you purchase a new picture frame and it as a picture of a family as an example. That's what it sometimes feels like, and I hate it so much. I know he was real; I know he was here alive with me, and we took those pictures together. Thinking about my reality just hurts and every song, memories, shopping, eating alone...everything just hurts. BUT my morning was better.
Our 3-year-old grandson Logan showed me how he could drive his little truck. I am so proud of this little guy. He was scared to death of this truck and over the past week he has been slowly adjusting. Today he told me he is brave, and he showed me he could drive it! My daughter and son-in-law bought him a little blue Toyota Tundra, just like his papa's. Logan loved Brians truck, and he is so happy to have one just like it. Brian would be so proud and honored.
My story is being shared to help others so please feel free to comment or ask questions.
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