I Wish To Dream of You
I wish to dream of you.
To catch just a glimpse of you while I sleep.
Every night, I lay down with hope--thinking that maybe tonight will be the night.
But you never come.
You came to me, the first night I got home after that terrible call.
You were standing with your back to me, hands deep in your pockets, dirty ball cap on, in that familiar stance of yours.
The room was empty and white.
I called out to you and you turned around and gave me that gorgeous smile you always wore so well.
I ran to you and clung to you--crying and telling you not to go.
You just squeezed me and said, "Don't cry Sissy. I'm alright..."
And then you were gone.
I woke up withering, sobbing and hugging myself.
Feeling a pain so deep in my chest that I just knew it would never heal.
I cried over and over, "He's dead, my baby brother is dead... I wasn't there for him, I wasn't there..."
Sergio just held me and rocked me and told me to breathe.
It still hurts to breathe most days.
I know that on this earth, I will never see you again.
But I think of you everyday.
The minute my eyes open in the morning, and the sleep slips away from them--they fill with tears.
And every night, as I turn onto my side to try and find sleep, they fill again.
My eyes stay full of tears for you.
I remember being a little girl and hearing about bad things happening to other people,
and being afraid because my life always seemed a little too "perfect"...
too untouched by trauma and grief and despair.
If I had only known--if I had only known.
Who knew grief could be so heavy, so all-consuming, so demanding.
It refuses to be ignored.
It makes its way into any random moment, like a rude, uninvited guest. Making its presence known.
Somedays it's awkward tears in the middle of a sentence, or a sick heavy feeling when I find myself grabbing my phone to text you or just seeing the pain and agony in the eyes and hearts of our family. You wouldn't recognize us, buddy.
I am trying. We are trying. I'm not sure how good of a job we are doing.
But we keep waking up, getting up and showing up.
We struggle through each day as if we're walking through quicksand.
We fall exhausted into our beds at night only to find no rest.
You're in my thoughts, my mind, my prayers...
But why aren't you in my dreams?
To catch just a glimpse of you while I sleep.
Every night, I lay down with hope--thinking that maybe tonight will be the night.
But you never come.
You came to me, the first night I got home after that terrible call.
You were standing with your back to me, hands deep in your pockets, dirty ball cap on, in that familiar stance of yours.
The room was empty and white.
I called out to you and you turned around and gave me that gorgeous smile you always wore so well.
I ran to you and clung to you--crying and telling you not to go.
You just squeezed me and said, "Don't cry Sissy. I'm alright..."
And then you were gone.
I woke up withering, sobbing and hugging myself.
Feeling a pain so deep in my chest that I just knew it would never heal.
I cried over and over, "He's dead, my baby brother is dead... I wasn't there for him, I wasn't there..."
Sergio just held me and rocked me and told me to breathe.
It still hurts to breathe most days.
I know that on this earth, I will never see you again.
But I think of you everyday.
The minute my eyes open in the morning, and the sleep slips away from them--they fill with tears.
And every night, as I turn onto my side to try and find sleep, they fill again.
My eyes stay full of tears for you.
I remember being a little girl and hearing about bad things happening to other people,
and being afraid because my life always seemed a little too "perfect"...
too untouched by trauma and grief and despair.
If I had only known--if I had only known.
Who knew grief could be so heavy, so all-consuming, so demanding.
It refuses to be ignored.
It makes its way into any random moment, like a rude, uninvited guest. Making its presence known.
Somedays it's awkward tears in the middle of a sentence, or a sick heavy feeling when I find myself grabbing my phone to text you or just seeing the pain and agony in the eyes and hearts of our family. You wouldn't recognize us, buddy.
I am trying. We are trying. I'm not sure how good of a job we are doing.
But we keep waking up, getting up and showing up.
We struggle through each day as if we're walking through quicksand.
We fall exhausted into our beds at night only to find no rest.
You're in my thoughts, my mind, my prayers...
But why aren't you in my dreams?
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