| Dreams |
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| 11:07am 08/07/2005 |
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It's so funny. Whenever I have a dream that features my nephew, Adam (John's youngest brother), his face always morphs into John's face at age 9. So strange. This has happened in every John/Adam dream I've had since John's passing almost 3 years ago.
3 years. Wow.
That's why I thought it was strange when Josh's friend, Travis (who is a spiritual medium when he's not working for AOL) picked up a vibe while we were talking from one of my "guides" named Adam. Travis paused after he said his name and then said, "That's not his real name, but it's the name he wants me to give you." I didn't think to put the two together until recently. Could it be John?
I thought of a story that involves me, John, and the spirit world last week. I have about 3 pages typed, but haven't really picked it back up this week. Perhaps I should e-mail it to myself and work on it from home in my spare time.
Heh. Spare time.
Anyway. Two more weeks until Rob & Alison's wedding. Time flies. |
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| Happy Occasions |
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| 09:47am 01/09/2004 |
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Dear John,
It's been a very long time since I wrote to you. Your brother, Rob asked Alison to marry him. I guess you probably know that already. A date's been set-- July 23, 2005. Grandma's birthday. I talked to your mom last night and asked her who Rob picked to be his best man. She said that he's not having a best man; because you would've filled that position, if you were alive, Rob has decided to leave it open in your memory. Instead, he will have only groomsmen.
I remember Rob saying that, actually, right after you died. He said, through tears, "I was gonna ask John to be my best man."
I haven't visited your grave in a few months. Been busy. Maybe I'll try to get out there this weekend, since it's a long one.
You would've been starting college soon.
Anyway, just wanted to write this all down. Love you.
Aunt Jenny. |
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| 09:05am 02/09/2003 |
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Dear John,
Hi there. It's Tuesday after a long holiday weekend. School started today for your little brothers. Your mom put up a Notre Dame flag next to the tree that was planted for you in the yard.
I don't really know what to write. I feel like I have so many things to say but I don't know how to say them.
There was a mass said for you at St. Bernadette's yesterday morning, so Grandma, Grandpa, and your family met at the church and then had a pancake brunch back at Grandma and Grandpa's house. I guess you know all this already (if you can see what's going on down here).
Grandpa and I decided that we should make a trip out to Greg's grave soon. Grandpa was right yesterday-- he has two grandsons who have passed, and we haven't spent nearly as much time or energy paying our respects to Greg as we have to you. Your deaths were so different, though. Greg was sick. He was only 5. His wasn't so sudden, but it was equally senseless. There's no reason for children to be dying.
I'm planning to take October 30th off of work because I will be no good to anyone that day. I kinda wish it would come already. I really feel like taking an entire day to grieve for you, but I won't have any time until then.
I miss you, John.
Love,
Aunt Jenny. |
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| It's Been a Long Time |
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| 04:44pm 14/07/2003 |
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Hi John,
It's been a long time since I wrote anything in your journal. I tried to write a post in my own journal today, but something got screwed up and it was erased. It was a long one, too.
Anyway, I wanted you to know that I still think about you. I still get sad about you. I still cry. Sometimes I go for weeks without so much as a thought of you and then BOOM! It'll hit me and I'll be wrecked for a good hour, or evening, or week. But I try not to let it get me down too much. I can still function properly. When I see young kids about your age (or the age you would've been if you were still alive), it pangs me. Josh was talking about how he used to go to summer camp when he was a little kid and how the 16-year olds were the counselors and how cool they were. I instantly thought of you. I thought, what a great summer job that would be for John. He was so good with kids. And he loves watersports and fun stuff like that.
Of course, I can't keep thinking these thoughts without getting really depressed. So I stop them shortly after they pop up.
Josh and I went to Splashdown Waterpark for a couple of hours yesterday and I noticed that most of the lifeguards and staff were around your age. I thought about how great it'd be if you could've worked there this summer. You would've been a really incredible lifeguard.
Well, I have to go home now. I just wanted to write you for a little bit.
Love,
Aunt Jenny. |
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| Yet, Another Dream |
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| 09:35am 08/04/2003 |
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mood:  drained
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This is crazy: Two John dreams in two weeks. This NEVER HAPPENS.
It was a short one. Happened at the tail-end of sleep, right before I woke up this morning. I dreamed that the older nieces and nephews and I were sitting around what appeared to be a family room (could've been my parents'). John was there. We were visiting with him. He was 16 years old. The other kids were asking him questions when I broke down and began to cry. John came up to me and I asked if I could hug him. I shook his head and said, "No." But he said it twice, like "No, no." As if he was letting me down gently or something. Then I asked, "Well, I love you. Is that okay?" And he said, "Yeah, yeah." "But you can't say it back," I said. "No, no," he replied. This made me very sad, and I wondered if he couldn't tell me he loved me (or hug me) because he was dead and it wasn't allowed, or if he couldn't because I was a bad person. Then I woke up.
I'm going to have to tell my therapist about this dream. And the other one. Oh, so many things to talk to her about tonight. |
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| Another Dream About John |
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| 11:12am 26/03/2003 |
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(Cross-posted in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) buxmama-- sorry if it appears twice for you.)
I had a dream last night. Maybe it was early this morning. Anyway, it was about John, and it's my 3rd John dream to date. Here's what happened:
( Read more... ) |
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| Been a long time... |
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| 03:35pm 20/03/2003 |
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mood:  contemplative
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It's been a while since I last posted anything in this journal.
I thought about John on Tuesday night before I went to therapy. I didn't really expect to think about him, but before I knew it, I was crying. I pulled it together before anyone saw me, though. It's weird-- when I see little boys who resemble John in any way (the chubby cheeks, the straight Dennis-the-Menace-hair, etc.), I get choked up.
Mom had a dream about John a few weeks ago. It was her first. In her dream, he was a little boy around Adam's age. He was standing with Sunny, his old Labrador before Ginny (Sunny died last year, too). Mom held her arms out and called out to John, but he wouldn't go to her. For whatever reason, Sunny came to my mother. John only ran away.
When I visited with Ian and Laurin last weekend, we talked for hours and hours. I'm sure at least one of those hours was dedicated entirely to talk of John, and suicide. One of Ian's best friends in college hung himself 6 years ago. We all shared thoughts on the subject of suicide and death. I try not to dwell on thoughts of death for too long because, well, it's depressing! But it's a reality... a reality that I've thankfully had to deal with in any substantive sense only once (yet). Now with the war on, I think about it more often. I know that soon, people I know (friends, friends of friends, husbands of friends, etc.) might die. It's weird-- I went for so long believing that death would never happen to anyone I love. I was so sheltered by this misconception. Now I know that one day I'll have the burden of dealing with the loss of my father, who is the person I love most in this world (next to myself, with Josh not far behind). I will have to lose my mother, my siblings, possibly more nieces or nephews, friends. I might have to lose Josh one day (I hope, though, that I go before him). I realize that the more people I love, the more people I'll have to say good-bye to. (God, this is morbid.)
But it won't stop me from loving.
I wonder how people in my life would react to my own death. I would hate to make anyone sad for leaving them. I wonder about the last moments of John's life, and if he was scared. I wonder what he saw, what happened to his soul. Did it feel like falling or flying? I wonder if I'll be scared whenever the day comes. I have a feeling I'll be here for a long time. A palm reader once told me I'd live until age 82. She also said there would be conflict surrounding my death... a legal battle, perhaps over money. My children? Hmm. I don't even have any money and I doubt I'll ever MAKE any, seeing as I have absolutely no career aspirations to speak of. ;)
Gosh, so much unknown. None of us know. |
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| Detached |
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| 12:23pm 25/02/2003 |
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Detached is a good way to begin the description of how I've been feeling about John lately.
I haven't cried about him in quite some time. I haven't been to the cemetery in probably the same amount of time, since crying about John and visits to the cemetery often go hand-in-hand. I've been so busy and preoccupied with other things that the most I've done has been to look up at John's picture (on the shelf on my living room wall). I look at it and feel the twinge of loss, but not much more.
Julie hasn't talked to me about John in almost 2 months. John's been dead for only 4 months. To be blatantly honest about Julie, I don't know how she's been feeling about this situation since she's pretty much stopped talking in-depth to any of the family members about anything significant. It's usually, "What'cha been up to?" or, "Work's fine, everyone here's fine, not doing much of anything, etc." And because I get so happy and excited to talk to her when she calls me (it's not that often anymore), I ramble on about my life and the house and everything in-between and she gets really quiet and unresponsive. Then she tells me she has to get going and we hang up. Afterward, I always feel a little cheated... a little disappointed. Our conversations are so short and superficial now.
I still talk to Mom about John, and about worries concerning Julie and her family. I don't talk about John with Dad that often. Not even with Josh. Maybe we're all talked out about him. I hate feeling this way. It's so... empty. |
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| No Talking |
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| 02:17pm 30/01/2003 |
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I went on AIM just now to update my Buddy List, and I saw that Rob was online but had his away message up. I clicked on his username to see what his away message said... The usual: "Work...school..study...work again. Be back around 5:30."
Then I scrolled down further to read his profile and there was this quote I'd forgotten about. It read, "To the world, you were one person. But to us, you were the world." Then it said, "You were my brother and my best friend. I love you," with John's birth and death dates underneath.
My heart winced at that. You know, I was talking to my mother on my drive home yesterday about a lot of things. Mostly, our talk dealt with John. My therapist thinks it's very strange that my sister and brother-in-law have been able to resume "normality" so shortly after John suicide. She wondered if we had a pattern of denial in our family. She also wondered if Danny, being the last person to talk to John before he killed himself, felt any responsibility for John's death. I didn't know. Danny doesn't really act like he feels guilt. He may, but perhaps he doesn't talk about it with anyone but Julie. I know John's death wasn't Danny's fault. I'm not blaming him. But most parents of suicides feel guilt, whether it's justified or not. My therapist just thought the events after his death (Julie dropping her therapist and not finding a new one, Danny not going to therapy, etc.) sounded very disjointed. Mom told me yesterday that she suggested to Julie that she start a journal in order to get her feelings out, which of course I think is a really good idea. See, someone gave Julie a book written by a woman whose child committed suicide and after reading it, all of those feelings came back to Julie. Julie refused the journal idea.
Julie's not talking to me after the really bad weekend I had a couple of weeks ago. I suppose I don't blame her. I guess she'll talk to me when she wants to.
I asked Mom if she (meaning Mom) still cries about John. She says she feels sad, but she's all cried out. I asked her if any of the other kids talk to her or cry about John. She said no.
I still cry. I still talk about him a lot. I never, ever want to forget him or forget what happened. I thought we could pull together as a family and talk to each other about him, but maybe not.
You know who is able to talk and cry about John? Rob. He's always been ready to talk about John with me. He's never once tried to hide his tears or refrain from reacting how he needs to with regards to John. If you ask me, Rob's handling this awful situation healthier than most of my family.
This happened for a reason. We are all supposed to learn from this. But what are we to learn? And, can we learn if we refuse to talk to each other about it? |
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| I Guess You Can |
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| 12:13pm 27/01/2003 |
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John,
I have a lot to say, so you better get comfortable.
I'll try to get to the point as quickly as I can, though.
You know I love you. You also know I've been really hurt by your death and I've gone up and down and all over the place with my emotions (and mental health) since October 30th. I've tried to find reasons. I've tried to understand. I've wished you alive over and over again. I've cried buckets. I've been angry.
In addition to all that, I've tried to find anything remotely positive that might be taken from this experience-- to no avail. It seems that the more I try, the further away I get from finding a positive. But something happened quite recently... something I never expected. Without even looking, I found a few positives:
The day you died, I hadn't spoken to Josh in over 2 weeks, and quite frankly, thought I'd never speak to him again. I didn't know that in that time, he was checking my journals to find out what was going on with me in my life. He still cared about me-- a fact that was difficult for me to see (and difficult for him to express) after what happened during his September visit. The night you died, he e-mailed and called me. He reached out to me. He swallowed his pride and fear and offered me his ear and his friendship with no strings, no hidden motives. It was pure love he showed me and has continued to show me ever since. I'm not sure what will happen with Josh and I from here out, but I know that if it weren't for the tragedy of your death, he and I might never have talked again.
I love my family. Each and every member. The last few years I have been back in VA, I have slowly formed stronger ties with my family. Being so much younger than my siblings, growing up was difficult for me because I felt like I missed out on a lot of the camaraderie that usually accompanies siblings in larger families. I always felt distanced. Since your death, I have been less hesitant to pick up the phone and call my brothers and sisters (when I have the time, of course). I have felt less restrained when showing physical affection to them, as well as to their children. I feel like being more generous to my parents. I feel like being around them all the time. Subsequently, I feel their love for me more now than ever. I feel like an important piece of the family puzzle. I feel more needed.
While going through all this, I have also come to realize not only what is truly important, but what is so incredibly UNimportant that I have virtually stopped obsessing/worrying/focusing on lots of trivial things that I once found necessary. I feel calmer. I don't want to trouble myself or anyone else over silliness. I choose my battles more wisely now, and I try really hard not to make big deals over little things.
Finally, I started therapy. In fact, I go again tomorrow night. I've needed this for a while and have put it off for too long. I've allowed myself to ask for help on things I can't do by myself.
While all of these things are greatly changing my life for the better, they pale in comparison to the loss I've suffered. John, we love you. I love you. And I thank you for contributing to my life.
Aunt Jenny. |
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| Therapy Tonight |
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| 02:18pm 21/01/2003 |
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Well, tonight's the night. My first therapy session with Dr. Carlson. I really hope I get along with her so that I won't have to chase around trying to find someone I like better.
I watched The Hours last night with Josh. I broke down completely by the end of it, but I was able to pull myself together before the lights came on. Josh was naturally concerned. We talked a little on the car ride home, but I became frustrated with his reaction to some of the things I was saying about my feelings regarding my nephew's suicide. So I shut off. He didn't like that. I told him that if I was going to be treated like a mental patient every time I opened my mouth about my nephew to him, I wasn't going to talk about it anymore. That made him very sad. After we worked out that little speedbump, I resumed opening up about my feelings about John.
I told Josh that I understand how hard it is to have to "put on a brave face" amidst depression, just so that you don't concern those who care about you. So that you appear "normal". So that people won't think you're crazy and leave you. I know it all too well. And I know what a lonely feeling it can be. Sometimes I think that if John knew that he wasn't the only one who felt like this, if he knew that I too go through those feelings quite regularly, and he and I TALKED to each other about it, maybe he'd still be here. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so alone. Maybe I wouldn't feel so alone, either.
Futile thinking, really. Nothing can bring him back. I hate that death is so permanent. I can't believe I had lived 27 years without anyone close to me dying. That's probably why I never realized death's permanence. I never realized that, compared to death, most other things are pretty trivial. |
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| I'm Not Tired |
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| 12:25am 17/01/2003 |
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But I AM tired, really. I just can't sleep. My tummy feels all weird and my soul feels unsettled.
Note to self: Don't watch Crossing Over when you're already sad about John's death. It only magnifies it.
Although, I have to say, it was good to get more crying out tonight. I hadn't really cried about John in what seems like weeks. Maybe it has been weeks. I haven't been keeping track.
Tuesday night is my first therapy session with Dr. Carlson. I have not mentioned to her yet about John's suicide. I'm not entirely sure if that's really the big chunk of why I need to see someone. It's a lot of things-- things from the past, my neverending struggle to be two people in one body, my inexplicable seclusion. Boo hoo, right? I know there are lots of people out there who have it worse than I do. I'm not trying to complain. I just need... some guidance as to how to get through my troubles. John's death was not something I prepared for, not something that I knew would be inevitable (in this way), like a parent dying of old age or something. Sometimes I think he's beginning to fade from my memory and I have to look at pictures to get a clear view of his face. That leaves me feeling empty inside.
I haven't had any more dreams of John, and the only two I had showed him as a little child. And they were muddy and scared me. For once I'd like to have a dream of him that made me feel better. |
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| Things I forgot to mention... |
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| 12:27pm 08/01/2003 |
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mood:  bored
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I already talked about smelling incense at John's grave, but a couple of other things happened around Christmas that were kinda spooky. I'll elaborate:
While my mother was baking her Christmas cookies one day last month, something weird happened. The green, Christmas tree-shaped spritz cookie batter wouldn't go through the cookie press. She tried and tried but nothing came out. So she transferred the cookie batter to her other cookie press. Same thing. No cookies came out. I called during her "struggle" and she was literally out of breath when she answered the phone! After she told me what was happening with the cookie presses, she let me in on a little secret: "The spritz cookies were John's FAVORITE kind," she told me. She even made John an entire plate of them for his birthday one year because he liked them so much. My mother never got the presses to work. My father had to make the spritz cookies this year.
On Christmas day when Julie and her family went to the cemetery, it was grey and snowy. The weather was horrible. But as they stood around his grave, for that moment only, the clouds parted and the sun shone. Just for them, it seemed.
That's all. I just forgot to post about it sooner. |
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| Saturday with Julie |
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| 09:23pm 05/01/2003 |
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mood:  happy
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I spent about ten hours with Julie and her family yesterday. :) That was what I wanted to do and I'm glad I got the opportunity to do it. Adam had his first basketball game at 3:30, so I headed to Julie's a little beforehand to check out her new living room furniture (which was really pretty) and hang out for a while. Ryan had a headache when I got there. Ginny was jumping up on me (I love it, though). Danny was vacuuming.
Adam was so cute at his game. During the warmup shots, he made every basket. Every single one. Once the game started, though, the coaches weren't that great at teaching the kids what to do. If Danny were up there, it'd been better. Oh well. Adam did a good job regardless. After the game, Julie and I headed to 2-Day Furniture (a warehouse-type place) to check some things out. We talked a little about John. I asked her if she'd had any more John dreams. She did-- one. It was right after her new furniture was delivered. In the dream, she got a phone call on her cell phone. When she looked at the display, it said, "Johnny". She answered and the voice on the other end said, "I love the new furniture. It looks really great." Then the person on the phone said that he had a lot of homework to do. She asked him who it was and he said, "John". Julie told him that it couldn't be John because John was dead. This dream, and others like it, really upset Julie.
Julie also talked about how she feels weird being around certain friends of hers because she feels like they look at her-- watch her-- to see what's different about her since John's death. Like they're looking for things to blame his death for. This drives Julie crazy, naturally. It'd drive me crazy, too. I didn't know what to say to her about it since I have no idea how to handle something like that. But I told her if people didn't understand, then they weren't her real friends. They'd know to back off if they really cared about her. I mean, Jesus.
For the rest of my time with Julie's family, I went to Lowe's with them and then out to dinner. We just watched TV when we got back home. I know, it was a simple day. Yet, it was the best. It was exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday. |
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| Your Birthday |
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| 07:46pm 01/01/2003 |
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Your birthday came and went, but not unnoticed or ignored. I was in MA celebrating Josh's birthday since it falls on the same day as yours. I only broke down once and I made it till dinner time before I did.
15 of your friends took your entire family out to Ruby Tuesday's, their treat, on your birthday. When Mom visited your grave that day, there were 6 of your friends there already when she arrived. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to you and then cried.
Dad wrote a "Happy Birthday" message to you on your Obituary Guest Book (but he mistakenly said 16th instead of 17th birthday). Gotta love Dad. The effort more than made up for the error. :)
Julie said she hung in there that day. All of the support from everyone helped, I'm sure. The lunch, the friends, our family.
I know you didn't mean to leave us, Johnny. I know it. It was a rash decision-- made out of emotion and unclear thought. Had you known how much you'd be missed, how much we needed you here, you wouldn't have done this. And I know that you're sorry.
I love you, John. Happy Birthday. |
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| Humbug |
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| 10:18am 26/12/2002 |
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mood: relieved
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Christmas was almost a total bust yesterday. Adam, John's youngest brother, was sick with the stomach flu (which of course freaked me out, since vomit is my #1 fear). I didn't want anyone from that family to go to Mom and Dad's house on Christmas day because I feared that they were harboring the flu germs and would pass them to me. (I have a gig on Saturday PLUS I'm flying to MA on Sunday.) The last word I heard before Christmas was that Julie decided not to come over.
( Read more... ) |
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| Imagination? |
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| 09:33am 23/12/2002 |
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mood:  confused
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I resolved to visit my nephew's grave yesterday. After chores were completed, I showered and then headed to Fairfax to the cemetery. For once, I wasn't nervous or anxious about going (nervous because it's always a difficult thing to drive to a cemetery to visit a loved one). I bought a bouquet of Christmas-colored carnations and other flowers, wrapped in pretty red plaid paper. I was ready.
On the drive there, I was searching for a good radio station to listen to. I stopped at one because "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" (the remake by GNR) was playing. Ever since John's funeral, that song plays on the radio when I think about him. I mean, it plays a LOT these days-- more than I ever noticed before. (I wonder if John liked that song or something.) I'll hear both versions (the GNR and the Bob Dylan versions) play at the same time on different stations sometimes, too. Weird.
When I got there, I saw that there were a good number of people visiting graves-- mostly on the other grounds outside of the area where John is buried. I walked up to the grave and looked at the beautiful headstone with an engraved rosary and four-leaf clover on the front (it truly was a work of art), and the artificial poinsettia bouquet resting in the attached vase. I looked at the 9-inch Christmas tree with a stocking that said "John" hanging on the front (probably left there by the high schoolers) and a nice little standing wreath (from Julie and the family, I found out later). I put my bouquet on the dirt and stood back from it, looked at it. It didn't look quite right. So I tore open the paper and removed the rubber bands holding the flowers together and then put 3 clumps of flowers on the dirt. That looked much better. I stood back again and my mind went blank. I was breathing very slowly, trying to remain calm and collected. When I started to pray for John, I began to cry. I missed him so much. Then I began to talk to him. I told him how much we all love and miss him, and how I wished he was still alive so I could continue to observe what a beautiful person he would become. I told him how beautiful he was when he was alive and how he was one of my favorite people. I was thankful for the time I got to spend with him but that I wanted more.
As I was talking, something strange happened. I began to smell incense-- not the fruity kind or the "hippy" kind that teenagers burn but real, CHURCH incense that priests burn during special masses. I stopped talking to John and inhaled deeply. Yep, it was incense alright. I looked around to see if there was anyone at the cemetery who was burning incense. I saw a couple not too far away chatting together at a grave. The man was smoking a cigarette, but that was the only thing I could see burning. I looked to my right and saw a woman with a plastic bag who appeared to be gathering trash or leaves or something. No one was burning incense that I saw, though. I wondered if cemeteries pump the smell of incense out sometimes (that was a pretty farfetched theory, but you gotta understand that at this point I felt a little like I was going crazy... why would I be smelling incense where there was none burning?). I tried to turn my focus back to John, all the while still smelling the incense. I said a few more words, prayed the Our Father and Hail Mary, and then told John that I had to go (I was stopping by my parents' and my sister's houses). I told him I loved him, got in the car, and drove off. The smell went away as soon as I left.
I called my mom to ask her if cemeteries pump incense out onto the grounds periodically. She asked me why, and I told her about everything that had happened. She was perplexed. She suggested that maybe a priest had blessed John's stone recently. I called Julie to ask her about that but she wasn't home. When I finally got a hold of her last night, she didn't know anything about a priest blessing John's stone recently.
Am I crazy? There has to be a logical explanation for this. Was it a miracle? |
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| Sunday at Julie's |
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| 10:06am 19/12/2002 |
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mood: calm
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After a day of shopping at Fair Oaks with Dad, I stopped by Julie's to drop off the Sports Illustrated issues for Rob and to see her new floors. Rob was the only one home so we talked a little bit before the rest of the family returned. He told me of a dream he had recently about John. In the dream, Rob, John, and Danny (the father) were all sitting around talking. They were crying. Rob said to John, "See? Dad really did love you, John." Rob said there were bits of silliness mixed into the dream too, but he didn't really go into it.
When Julie got home, she showed me her floors and her new throw rugs she bought and then we went upstairs to look at the presents she bought for the boys. I asked her about her dream because she briefly mentioned to Dad while Dad and I were shopping that she had a really good dream about John that gave her some peace. I wanted to know what happened in the dream. Julie said that in all the other John dreams she's had, there was an event happening; like, John was home all of a sudden and wanted to go to a football game with them. Something like that. Well in this one, it was just Julie and John sitting at the end of Julie's bed and talking. She asked John why he did this. John said that he was upset that Danny was yelling at him about his grades. Julie tried to tell John that Danny wasn't "yelling" at him-- he was trying to help him. But some things people say sound different when heard through sensitive ears (believe me, I know). John told her how sorry he was that he did this. Julie asked him if he was with Nana (his great grandmother on Danny's side who passed last year). John said, "Oh yes." Then Julie asked if he'd seen our grandparents (the Rizzos). He said, "Well, a couple of people have come up to me and hugged me, but I don't know who they are!" John never met my Grandma Rizzo and he only met Grandpa Rizzo once, so that was probably them. John said he wanted to take a shirt with him to Heaven. It was an orange Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt with the word "hottie" on the front. Julie told him it probably wasn't a good idea to wear that shirt in Heaven. ;) Then Julie asked him if he wanted to take the Game Boy to Heaven and John told her that Game Boys don't work up there. So there was a little silliness in her dream, too. Julie asked John if he was with the family even when they weren't thinking about him. He told her he was with all of us all the time.
Then at the end of the dream, Julie was standing outside of a church where 2 priests were greeting parishioners and John, clothed in a white robe, was standing behind them. John leaned over and gave each priest a kiss on the forehead. Julie went up to the priests and asked them if they saw John kiss them. They said no, but they could feel it. Turns out that this became some great miracle and people came from all over to hear about what had happened with John. And then she woke up.
Possible answers, clearing up of mistaken theories over the cause of John's suicide, and a little more peace was brought to us from that dream.
This weekend I will go to the cemetery. |
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| Dec. 11th |
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| 10:50pm 11/12/2002 |
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mood:  blah
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I'm really sad about you tonight, John. The feeling keeps coming back, even after I cry it out. I don't like feeling so far away from you.
I didn't go to last night's suicide survivor group therapy meeting. I have to deal with this either on my own or with the family. And I really need to visit the cemetery soon. I will try this weekend, and I WILL bring something to put on your grave. I keep slacking on that.
Dad says someone put up a little Christmas tree on your plot. Probably the high schoolers. They've missed you so much, John.
I miss you. Wish you were here. |
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| 2nd John Dream |
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| 02:43pm 09/12/2002 |
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After a night of singing badly and fighting with Josh, I fell asleep. It felt really cold that night. I couldn't seem to warm up, even while under my down comforter. When I finally got to sleep, I dreamed that I was outside in a suburban neighborhood. The sun was very bright and sometimes the light made it hard for me to see things. I was walking door-to-door with my 6-year old nephew, Adam (John's youngest brother). Suddenly, Adam said something to the effect of, "Chase me, Aunt Jenny," or "Get me!" I ran after him and he ran away giggling. I was gaining speed and reached my arm out to tag his back. As I touched him, he turned around to look at me and instead of Adam, it was John at 6 years old. I remember he was wearing a lime or neon green t-shirt. He was still laughing and running away from me, but I stopped, put my hand over my mouth, and let out a scream. I began to cry in my dream. I ran into a random house that was filled with people I didn't know. I was crying and running up to each person to tell them what had happened with John. They stared at me blankly and were unresponsive. I tried to reiterate: "No, you don't understand. The nephew I saw is dead. John's dead. He killed himself and I'm hurting because of it." They said nothing to me. They didn't care.
And that was it. |
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