Today is 26 months since we buried sissy. THAT is the most shocking of all. To think that she's so close and yet impossibly far away. I have never been to the cemetery since her service. For some reason I find it a tiny bit less horrifying to word it that way, her service vs. her funeral. Funeral is so final, so abrupt, so DEATH. Service is something that means many other things. Funeral cannot. There is only one definition of funeral but many definitions of service.
Norm woke me up in the middle of the night a few nights ago, he said I was talking in my sleep. I have a tendency to talk in my sleep but I don't remember it and rarely do I wake up Norm doing it since he snores horribly and has severe sleep apnea. But somehow I woke him up. I asked him what I was saying. He told me I was talking to my sister. I hesitated for a split second but then wanted to know what I was saying. I had a vague, swirling memory of a dream with her so I wanted to know if I heard the words I was saying would bring the dream to the forefront of my memory. I wish I hadn't asked.
Norm said I was saying "I love you. I miss you sissy. Please come back to me."