I Didn't Cry About It

The first week after Howard died I lost around 10 pounds. My grandmother had moved in and was cooking for mom and me for almost every meal.

If we ate it was only a couple of bites. 

My aunt and uncle from Texas came up to help, and our friends and neighbors were constantly bringing in these wooden care baskets full of food that seemed endless.

Mom couldn't sleep by herself. I couldn't sleep by myself.

Mom cried everyday. I held her everyday.

I didn't cry about it. 

A few weeks later I had a dream about Howard.

In the dream I woke up and it felt like the untouched quiet that usually swept over the house on an early Saturday morning.

I could smell some food cooking in the kitchen. When I rounded the corner of the hallway I saw Howard standing over the gas-stove making breakfast.

I ran towards him and I hugged him as tightly as I could.

"Howard, I had the most awful dream in the world," I said to him.

He turned to me looking confused and asked, "What happened?"

"You died and everyone was coming over giving us all of these things that we didn't know what to do with. It was so awful," I said.

Howard looked at me and paused. His face still held a slight frown. He sighed and put down the spatula he'd been holding.

"Kateleigh, that was not a dream. You are dreaming right now. You are in the living room sleeping. I am here to tell you that I am okay. Everything is going to be okay," He said.

I stared at him, disoriented. This felt real. I had hugged him. I felt like I had all my senses. He was real.

"No. No that was a dream. You're right there," I said.

"Tell everyone I'm okay. Tell your mom I love her," He said.

All of a sudden I was thrown back and I woke up to find myself on the couch in the living room, my pillow was stained from tears.

That was the first time I cried about it.

Written: 12.17.16


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