Dreams

I said previously that I would share about dreams I've had. Unfortunately, that was awhile back - and I have already started to forget the details. I will do my best to remember. The first 3 dreams came back to back.

Dream #1
I was on a social media site, similar in look to instagram. I saw a "selfie" Tony posted of himself, in a bathroom mirror. He wasn't smiling in the selfie. And he had bruises and cuts about his face and head. I remember *feeling* shaken. I searched for him and found him, tho I can't remember where. He was visibly upset and unhappy. Not crying. Not mad. Not upset at me or being found. Just - upset and unhappy. I remember telling him "We buried you!" "I saw you in your casket!"  I woke up shaken to the core. Other than my nightmares I had for weeks after his death (of him being stuck in his casket, buried - and unable to get out), this was the first dream I had of him.

Dream #2
I came in the house and Tony was sitting on the couch with friends. He was younger. Looked like early to mid high school. He was wearing a teal polo. He wasn't happy. I didn't know why. I woke up confused.

Dream #3
I was driving down our driveway, coming home from who knows where? Our driveway is kinda long and curved. I came around the last curve, and saw him, standing by a car. I want to say it was his car but I can't remember that for sure. But it was him. I was so overjoyed! I parked and jumped out and hugged him! He was WHOLE! He looked GOOD! I remember that we talked - but I can't remember about what. I remember thinking "this isn't real". Again - he was unhappy. Not joyous or happy or himself in any way mood wise. I don't know why. But what I distinctly remember - and what I woke up with - I remember the FEELING of hugging him. Like I TOUCHED him. I could FEEL it. This was - by far - the hardest dream. I woke up - and remembered "Oh GOD! My son is DEAD!" To go from a joyous - albeit confusing - dream, to a bitter, horrid reality it just......heart wrenching.

I had begged God; I had begged Tony even; to please, please, God PLEASE, let me see my son in a dream. I NEED to know he is ok. I NEED to know he is happy. I NEED to know he still exists!! (yes my faith has wavered in ways I never imagined - to the point that I even question whether there truly is life after death.) And for months - MONTHS - my prayers went unheeded. And finally, I get these. And I found little to no comfort in them.

Was I dreaming of him because I craved it so badly? Was my sub conscience finally trying to relieve itself of the burden and anxiety? Or was it an answer to a prayer? And if so, why? Why like this? Why was he unhappy - in every dream??

I shared with my mother. She told me that she also felt strongly that he was unhappy. She felt (if I remember correctly) that he was running out of time and that he was unhappy because he was in spirit prison.

(Mormons believe that when we die - we go to a sort of holding area. We will stay there until resurrection and final judgement. This holding area is divided into 2 areas. Paradise - for the faithful and believers; Spirit Prison - for the non-believers. Paradise is a place of rest from our work on earth, as physical beings. But it is also a place where we sit around and play harps and sing songs (Alma 40:12). It is a place of work and growth and development spiritually. We minister and help among those in spirit prison (D&C 138:30). Spirit prison is not a prison in the sense that we understand it here on earth. I have a friend that described it best - as "spirit school'. It is a place for the non-believers to hear the Gospel and learn and grow and DECIDE whether they believe (Alma 40:13-14). Yes, after death, Mormons believe choice still exists (Alma 34:34-35). Which plays into another belief - unrelated to THIS blog post - but I'll share anyway. Mormons believe that every soul needs to have been baptized and to take on Jesus' name. Even those who have passed before; those who may have heard the Gospel and denied it; those who have never been given the chance to hear the Gospel, and anyone else we can imagine. We are so big about family history - for this reason. But - let's say Grandpa didn't believe in the Gospel, and after he dies, his name is taken to the temple and he is baptized by proxy. Does that automatically make Grandpa a Mormon? Or take away his beliefs he always held here on earth? Nope. It gives him the baptism that is needed - SHOULD HE ACCEPT IT. He can still choose to not accept it. Anyway - so that's a big purpose of "spirit school" - and paradise - to teach and to learn - and to accept or not accept.)

Tony believed, for a large part - in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, as Mormons are taught. But some areas he believed differently. He also didn't live his life 100 percent faithful and clean. He had vices and sins (as do we all). So the question - would he automatically go to Paradise? Or would he go to Prison first? We have 4 basic "jobs" here. To have faith. To repent. To get baptized. To receive the Holy Ghost. Would he go to "school" first? To be given a chance to repent of things he hadn't before death? (again Alma 34:35) Or to learn about those things he differed with among the beliefs? I don't know the answer there. But my mom believed he went to spirit prison first. I don't know why she felt he was running out of time.

I do wonder though - was he unhappy? Is he still unhappy?

It is quite frustrating to hear and to read stories of someone being comforted after the death of a loved one. To hear how they had a visit - and found answers and comfort in the state of their loved one. I felt so incredibly alone and abandoned - by God, by Tony - because I didn't receive that. I have since read many other accounts of those with similar experiences - of not getting that comfort or knowledge that their loved one was well and good and happy. So I know I'm not alone. But it has been difficult.

I have often wondered, but only lately, about these dreams in a different sense. Is it possible that the first dream was to prepare me? And to show me Tony as he was when he first entered the spirit world? Or heaven? As a broken person, filled with visible markings and injuries (sins perhaps)? And the 2nd dream was to show me how he would have to go and find that younger version of himself - or rather, the more spiritually minded; the true follower of Christ; not the questioning version he later became? So that he could find the truth? And the finally, the last dream - where he was whole and unmarked - was he finished repented and had found a way to make his spirit whole and clean? Was he "unhappy" because of MY unhappiness? That *I* was not joyful in his return to Heavenly Father? Was he sad because I grieve on a daily basis for what I do not have any longer - despite what he possibly DOES have? Was he sad because I have let my faith waver and be shaken to the core? What the hug - the actual TOUCH and FEEL - a physical sort of of "good-bye"? (for now)

I do not know. I may never know. What I do know - is I HAVE let my faith be shaken. I have become angry and bitter with God. I have even questioned whether He exists at all. I have worn my bitterness and misery like a blanket - wrapping my own self up in the cold roughness of it. Somehow I have to find a way to fold that blanket up and put it away. (shoot, maybe I should throw it on the burn pile) So that I can find the truth again. To find my faith again. And to wrapped in the soft, comforting warmth of His grace.

Grief is ugly and dirty

Grief. What is grief? I dont know the words to explain grief. But I do know how it feels.

It's been almost 8 months since Tony died. Not a day goes by without feeling his absence. Not a minute goes by, it seems. I see him every where. The memories overwhelm me sometimes. A lot of the times.

I feel this awful emptiness; sadness; loneliness. The days seem to get dimmer and dimmer. And no, that's not the time change. I feel I have no faith anymore. I feel like heaven doesn't exist. That when we die, that's it. There's nothing. That this feeling or belief of something coming after is just to bring us comfort. So it's not so hard to deal with - versus knowing that when we die, we cease to exist. I feel like when people have near death experiences, they are their brains reacting to lack of oxygen, and the "dreams" or whatever you want to call it, are reflections of their personal beliefs. That's why "heaven" looks different to different people.

So I don't think I believe Tony is in some wonderful after life. I don't believe he exists at all anymore.

And that's hard to swallow.

No one wants to witness grief. So we hold everyone at arms length, so we don't get dirty. Grief is messy. And anyone who gets close, gets splashed with it. No one likes that. And so people choose to avoid. They use words like "you handle this so well" and "I dint think I could handle this as gracefully as you". That avoids the question of "how are you today? How are you really?" No one asks that. Everyone offers to be there if you need them. But when you do, they are no where to be found. And thus, grief is loneliness.

Everyone grieves differently. I've never been one to hold feelings inside. I did it in high school. My depression was all consuming. I dressed in black. I rarely smiled one year. Or I put on a fake face. I mean, that's what everyone wants to see. I cut myself. The sadness had to get out somehow. Now, I'm faced with holding it in again. No one talks about it. My husband shuts up if I being it up. But if I wait for him, he never brings it up. He just goes about life life he always did. Ignore the bad. Ignore it and it doesn't exist. Tony's death is bad. So just ignore it. I'm the one that decorates his grave site. I'm the one pushing to find a head stone, tho he refuses to even sit and discuss it. I'm the one that wanted the memorial birthday. I'm the one that brought up having a scholarship in his name, and worries if we will find enough $ to fulfill the obligation. Grace also doesn't talk about it. Ignores it. She has said if we stay home on Christmas and do nothing, she will go hang with get friends. She doesn't want to be in a sad house.

So I hold it in. Every once in a while, it gets out. I talk or I cry. But inside, day by day, minute by minute even, I'm withering and shriveling up. I fear it won't be long until there's nothing left to feel inside. But maybe that's better, because feeling this awful consuming grief is overwhelming most of the time.

Jason woke up this morning and said "I'm glad Bubba died". Does he understand what he said? No. Probably not. Heck, we question if he even remembers Tony. I dont think he does. But, regardless if he understood his words or not, it doesn't hurt any less. It thrust a knife deep inside me when I heard the words.

No one understands this pain. Everyone grieves differently but no one - no one - wants to get dirty from it. No one wants to get close enough.