I'm going to write my dark and twisty Easter day details and then I'll write my happy, cheerful, kid filled post.
As I said earlier, Easter is a rough one. It was made all the more difficult by waking up at 6am sobbing from a dream. It is so hard to open your eyes for the first time in the morning and realize your pillow is soaked with your tears that you didn't even know were spilling over and your body shaking from sobs you didn't know you were having until your eyes open and your mind is still thinking of the dream you had just had. Unfortunately the crying didn't stop there. I cried and cried some more, awake this time, and I relived my dream in excruciating detail.
I'll spare you the details but the gist of it was we were at Beya and Papa's cabin and we saw a car drive by. Mom, sissy and I walked up to the car it turned out to be one of my close friends who I grew up with and her mom. All five of us were talking and laughing and sissy and I were cracking each other up. Every once in a while I'd notice my friends mom was looking away and trying not to cry. It was weird but I didn't pay much attention to it. So the five of us finished talking, they drove away and mom, sissy and I went walking back up to the cabin. The three of us were laughing and talking and just having fun. Sissy was walking behind me and I turned to tell her something and POOF! she was gone. I realized then why my friends mom had been crying. Trina never was there, she was a figment of mom's and my imagination. WE were talking to her but my friend and her mom couldn't see or hear her. Sissy was already dead.
In my dream I started yelling and screaming to mom that it wasn't fair. Other people have their sisters alive and they aren't even close to them. Other women have sisters who don't talk to each other. Other women have sisters they take for granted. I was close to my sister. I was beyond close to MY sister. I spent every day with my sister and even then we'd talk on the phone at least five times a day. I know this because I actually thought about it later on after Easter. We would call each other about five times, every day. There was not one single day that went by that we didn't talk to each other. It was a rare day if we didn't see each other but we ALWAYS talked to each other. And my sister is GONE. Gone forever.
I hate having these dreams and when I have them I can't shake them for a day or two and it throws a huge, black, mourning burqa on the whole day. I use this as an analogy as mom said the first year after Trina died she felt weighed down as if she were wearing a burqa.
So that's how my Easter day STARTED, not too good.
Norm also informed me that I had woken him up several times last week in the middle of the night whimpering and crying but thankfully I don't remember those dreams. Apparently I've been having dreams more frequently than I thought. Maybe it was just because Easter was fast approaching and the news ticker that is constantly running through my head screaming "MY SISTER IS DEAD!!!" becomes louder and bigger.
Off to mass, or "mask" as Valentina used to call it, we went. When the homily started and it was about how Jesus had risen from the dead I got so angry. I wanted to stand up and shout "WHY???? WHY DID JESUS GET TO RISE FROM THE DEAD AND MY SISTER CAN'T??? WHY??? GOD KNEW WHAT HE WAS GETTING INTO WHEN HE SENT HIS SON DOWN TO EARTH AND HE STILL DID IT. SEE??? EVEN GOD CAN'T GET THROUGH GRIEF!!! GOD COULDN'T STAND TO NOT HAVE HIS SON BUT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO GET BY WITHOUT MY SISTER??? WHY???? HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT?????"
But I didn't.
I just sat there silently, thankful for the extra xanex I had taken in anticipation of mass.
The rest of the day was ok. Good enough to make it into my happy Easter post with pictures of the kids.
This past Friday afternoon Beya and Papa went to the cabin for the weekend. It's always difficult for me to have them away from me but I was brave and knew that they needed some alone time, time to decompress. They both do so much for the kids, the upkeep of the house and me that I know they need to get away. Papa's favorite thing to do out there is ride his tractor. He loves to get on his tractor and just drive and do whatever it is that he does on his tractor. Mom called me a few hours after they left to let me know they had made the drive there safely and she mentioned that papa was already out on his tractor. I smiled inside because I know how important it is to him. I talked to mom a few more times Saturday. Norm and I took the kids to lunch and afterwards Norm kept them busy at the arcade while I popped into the mattress store that was just a few doors down as we are in the market for a new bed.
(sidenote: I want the Westin Heavenly Bed but have found a good and slightly less expensive version of it in the Simmons Beautyrest. What kind of mattress do each of you have and what do you like/dislike about it?)
Later on last night mom called me and said "we're packing up and are coming home tonight." I was shocked. Then she told me something that broke my heart. "Papa came in from riding on his tractor and he said it doesn't make it him happy anymore. He gets on it and is still sad. He misses the kids. He wants to come home and be with the kids." Even papa's tractor has failed him. It seems to me that his news ticker is getting louder also. Mom and papa grieve in very different ways and I'm somewhere in between them.
In the end grief is grief is grief and we're all grief stricken.