At the end of my last post, I hoped that I would dream a dream of remembrance, and I did. I went to high school with a guy named Tevis Shaw. He was a year younger than I was. We shared the same circle of friends and usually shared the same lunch table, but never really became friends. Tevis died a few years ago after falling in the Gorge during the night. He had gotten up to use the bathroom and fell to his death. His friends found him the next morning. While I did not know Tevis well, I was friends with his good friends, including the two that had the heartbreaking experience of finding their best friend. Fast forward a year or two. It is MLKJr. day and I took my kids to the Explorium to celebrate. We listened to a lesson given by a woman who seemed familiar. I made the connection that this was Tevis's mother. I saw her several more times and I had always wanted to speak to her and express my condolences for her loss. I didn't do it because I was afraid it would be another reminder (Like she had ever forgotten?) of the child she had lost. I was at a party this Spring Equinox and saw her there. I decided I should intoduce myself and finally give her the long overdue condolences she deserved. I introduced myself and we spoke about Tevis. I told her how I had wanted to say something for years, but I didn't want to upset her. She was so glad I had said something. One of the things, she told me, was that one fear of parents that have experienced this kind of loss, is that people will forget about their child. I felt very connected to her that night. Not long after that, she arrived at a ladies dinner that my best friend hosted. I was so estactic to see her there. As the conversation between all the ladies progressed, the topic turned to children and of their passing. Kathleen told us about Tevis and his life. I was sitting next to her and I held her hand the entire time. It was heartbreaking to hear her sadness and the pain she has that will never subside. Through Katherine, I feel like I have gotten to know Tevis better in the brief time I have known her than in the years I knew him.
Fast forward to Friday night. I have had weird dreams recently. In my dream, I was in high school again and Tevis and I were dating. I had told my parents that I was going to the mall with Tevis, but instead we went back to his house where I spent the night. I knew my parents were going to be furious with me for lying. We sat in Tevis's room and listened to music. I can't remember the band, but I want to say it was either Joanna Newsome, Arcade Fire or Neutral Milk Hotel. At that point, I had never heard any of this music. I was blown away by it, loving it instantly. After listening to music, we decided to play on a Slip-n-Slide in his back yard. His house was the bright pink house that sits on the corner of Wilson Downing and Landsdowne Drive. Instead of that location, it was right off New Circle Road by Richmond Road. The house had a big backyard that went very far back. The Slip-n-Slide was an adult version, very very long. We slipped and slid for hours in the sun. When we were finished, I pulled a towel over the front of me and ran into the house to change. On my way in, soaking wet, Katherine said hello and told me she was glad I was there. I thought, "What an awesome lady to have for a boyfriend's mom." End of dream. When I woke up at 7:30, I knew I had to call Katherine to tell her about the dream. Coincidentally, she was on her way to the Gorge for her annual memorial hike for Tevis. What serendipitous timing.
I'm not sure what this dream means, but I am glad I had it. If you have read much of this blog, you can tell that I really enjoy dreams where I am visited by friends on the other side. This was no exception. I feel very honored to be visited while I'm sleeping. Thanks Tevis for making an appearance. Please come back again.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
let's try this again
It seems that the link the the How To Be Alone video didn't work. It is such a beautiful moveie, that I really want to get it right.
How To Be Alone
How To Be Alone
I dreamed a dream
I have had very bizarre dreams this past week. Most of my dreams are absolutely crazy. There is no way to derive any meaning from them. This week's dreams have been very pogniant and with meaning so obvious, it slapped me in the face. The first dream was that my mom and I had gone shopping at Kohls. They were giving away promotional puppies. The puppies came in cardboard crates. We took one and put the crate in the trunk with our shopping bags. The next day, we realized that we had left the puppy in the trunk. In the dream, it had been very hot and we knew there was no way the puppy could have survived in the heat. We were horrified at the fact that we had forgotten this puppy and at the prospect of having to go get the dead puppy from the trunk.
I had two dreams the next night. The first was that I was at a Target, but it was more like an industrial building. There was a clearance rack up on a pedestal. The rack was inside a cage and I had to crawl up through a small opening in the fencing to get to the clothes. The rack was full of spectacular costumes. The one outfit in particular that stands out is a short, sequined dress with a flaired waist that looked like something a cowgirl that does tricks on top of a horse would wear. Everything on the rack was in my size and marked down to $1.25. I was grabbing everything as fast as I could. There was another girl that came into the cage and told me to leave something for other people to buy. I told her that I had gotten there first and that if she wanted the clothes, then she should start grabbing some herself. End of dream.
The dress was like this, but shorter, with a flaired waist with taffeta and with way more sequins. Oh, and it was not an apron.
Dream number two began with me walking to Krogers. On Park Avenue, I turned the corner to find a really great midcenetury modern couch. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. It was a very large square, about 6x6'. One side had a back that could sit up to create a recliner. It was rusty red in color and in great shape. I got out my cell phone to call Akira so she could walk down the street and sit with the couch so I could go get the truck to take it home. I smelled the couch and it smelled like a Jewish home.(Whatever that means. Like Matzo balls?) The smell made me feel very at home and secure. End of Dream two. I woke up very dissapointed that these fabulous clothes and couch were not mine. I have had lots of dreams where I find excellent vintage things and buy them, only to wake up empty handed and sad.
The couch was like this, but red and better. Dream couch was not a sectional.
Last night I had two more significant dreams. The first was that we went back and visited our old house on Southview Drive. This house was nothing exceptional. It was a nice house, right next door to the house where Denali was born. When I think of that house, the first memory that comes to my mind is a potty training Denali sans diaper on the wooden floors, trying to use Darin's record rack to pull himself up. I got on a big bread making kick while I lived there. Life was really happy while we were there. In the dream, we went back to visit. I felt really sad that other people were living there. It bothered me that they lived there, yet they knew nothing of the significance of the house. That it had housed our family for a year. That Denali potty trained there and Mahala learned to read in that house. Where the basement flooded and ruined a bunch of stuff that we should have gotten rid of already, with the exception of about 300 Grateful Dead bootleg tapes. They didn't know about the bread I made there, or the boxed wine that was in the fridge. They didn't know about my best friend's daughter and her magnetism towards falling down the steps. They didn't know anything about the role that those walls played in our family's history. End of dream one.
The second dream last night was that we had to move out of our current house so it could be fixed up. We thought that we would find a place to stay temporarily while they fixed the house. We came back to check on the progress and the entire house had been remodeled and painted. The ceiling had been opened up and there was a balcony looking down on the living room. The room was painted the same color that Akira, Mahala & Darin painted their bedroom yesterday. It was a completely different house! Our stuff was not on the walls and our furniture was gone. There were new people living in it. We were flabergasted. End of dream two.
So, between forgetting something really important, thinking I have found things I want that turn out to not be real and whatever the home dreams mean, I feel like there is big symbolism in these dreams. I have no idea what they mean. I feel certain that they do have some meaning. I'm trying not to project any meaning onto the dreams. Maybe tonight I will have dreams of rememberance, seeing things for what they are and being comfortable in my own space, no matter where that takes me.
I had two dreams the next night. The first was that I was at a Target, but it was more like an industrial building. There was a clearance rack up on a pedestal. The rack was inside a cage and I had to crawl up through a small opening in the fencing to get to the clothes. The rack was full of spectacular costumes. The one outfit in particular that stands out is a short, sequined dress with a flaired waist that looked like something a cowgirl that does tricks on top of a horse would wear. Everything on the rack was in my size and marked down to $1.25. I was grabbing everything as fast as I could. There was another girl that came into the cage and told me to leave something for other people to buy. I told her that I had gotten there first and that if she wanted the clothes, then she should start grabbing some herself. End of dream.
The dress was like this, but shorter, with a flaired waist with taffeta and with way more sequins. Oh, and it was not an apron.Dream number two began with me walking to Krogers. On Park Avenue, I turned the corner to find a really great midcenetury modern couch. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. It was a very large square, about 6x6'. One side had a back that could sit up to create a recliner. It was rusty red in color and in great shape. I got out my cell phone to call Akira so she could walk down the street and sit with the couch so I could go get the truck to take it home. I smelled the couch and it smelled like a Jewish home.(Whatever that means. Like Matzo balls?) The smell made me feel very at home and secure. End of Dream two. I woke up very dissapointed that these fabulous clothes and couch were not mine. I have had lots of dreams where I find excellent vintage things and buy them, only to wake up empty handed and sad.
The couch was like this, but red and better. Dream couch was not a sectional.
Last night I had two more significant dreams. The first was that we went back and visited our old house on Southview Drive. This house was nothing exceptional. It was a nice house, right next door to the house where Denali was born. When I think of that house, the first memory that comes to my mind is a potty training Denali sans diaper on the wooden floors, trying to use Darin's record rack to pull himself up. I got on a big bread making kick while I lived there. Life was really happy while we were there. In the dream, we went back to visit. I felt really sad that other people were living there. It bothered me that they lived there, yet they knew nothing of the significance of the house. That it had housed our family for a year. That Denali potty trained there and Mahala learned to read in that house. Where the basement flooded and ruined a bunch of stuff that we should have gotten rid of already, with the exception of about 300 Grateful Dead bootleg tapes. They didn't know about the bread I made there, or the boxed wine that was in the fridge. They didn't know about my best friend's daughter and her magnetism towards falling down the steps. They didn't know anything about the role that those walls played in our family's history. End of dream one.
The second dream last night was that we had to move out of our current house so it could be fixed up. We thought that we would find a place to stay temporarily while they fixed the house. We came back to check on the progress and the entire house had been remodeled and painted. The ceiling had been opened up and there was a balcony looking down on the living room. The room was painted the same color that Akira, Mahala & Darin painted their bedroom yesterday. It was a completely different house! Our stuff was not on the walls and our furniture was gone. There were new people living in it. We were flabergasted. End of dream two.
So, between forgetting something really important, thinking I have found things I want that turn out to not be real and whatever the home dreams mean, I feel like there is big symbolism in these dreams. I have no idea what they mean. I feel certain that they do have some meaning. I'm trying not to project any meaning onto the dreams. Maybe tonight I will have dreams of rememberance, seeing things for what they are and being comfortable in my own space, no matter where that takes me.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Fourscore, all alone
It has been 20 days since I wrote and I have missed it greatly. I kept feeling guilty that I hadn't added anything, but I felt totally uninspired. Last night, I had an "AHA!" moment about my next writing subject. So, here goes:
I have always hated being alone. When I was a kid, I hated being home alone because I was afraid someone would break into our house. As an adult, I have always had a housemate, leaving less time to be alone. Facebook has offered me an out for times when I am alone, but don't want to feel alone.
Since last summer, I have been working on a program that is perfect for folks that want to change other people. While I'm sure everyone falls into this category, I have had years of practice and, in my mind, I am quite good at it. Which is a huge problem. So I'm (slowly, painfully, slowly) working on changing my desire to make people fit into a mold that I create for them. This program forces me to examine my issues and to break down my resentments with others to find the real cause of my frustration. For me, the root of my resentments for others is a fear of being messed up or unloveable. If someone on the street were to walk up to me and ask if I felt worthy of love, I would say yes. I feel like I am very loveable. *Crazy thoughts in italics* I'm great! I am perfect in every way, loving and kind in all my interactions, using impeccable communication skills and always doing my best. What's not to love about me? But what if people find out that I am not a very good stepmother? What if they saw Darin and I arguing and heard things I have said in that context? What if people could read my thoughts and see how judgemental I can be? If people knew all this stuff about me, no one would want to be around me and I would have no friends and no one would love me anymore. It sounds like a totally irrational thought, but I am fairly certain I am not the only one that harbors this fear. I am realizing that my dislike for being alone is tied directly to the fear of being unloveable. If I am alone, then that means that no one wants to spend time with me.
Lately, I have found myself wanting to be alone more. Not alone as in, 'Darin and the kids are gone,' but 'I can be by myself and find pleasure in being alone.' When I was in Louisville this summer, I walked around downtown in the middle of the night. I went to an art gallery by myself. It was a turning point for me and embracing my aloneness. I really enjoyed those few hours. This past weekend, our family had planned to go to a music festival in Berea. Darin had to work on Saturday, so I had planned for Denali and I to go down Friday night and Darin would come down Saturday night. Denali ended up staying with my parents Friday night, Which left me alone at a music festival for 24 hours. I had plenty of friends there, but it too felt like a significant step in being alone.
While these little things may seem insignificant, they are encouraging to me. I'm being pushed back into my shell. I am finding out that I can be alone and still be loved, and still love myself. I am finding aloneness to be a very beautiful thing.
In closing with the theme of beauitful aloneness, watch this.
I have always hated being alone. When I was a kid, I hated being home alone because I was afraid someone would break into our house. As an adult, I have always had a housemate, leaving less time to be alone. Facebook has offered me an out for times when I am alone, but don't want to feel alone.
Since last summer, I have been working on a program that is perfect for folks that want to change other people. While I'm sure everyone falls into this category, I have had years of practice and, in my mind, I am quite good at it. Which is a huge problem. So I'm (slowly, painfully, slowly) working on changing my desire to make people fit into a mold that I create for them. This program forces me to examine my issues and to break down my resentments with others to find the real cause of my frustration. For me, the root of my resentments for others is a fear of being messed up or unloveable. If someone on the street were to walk up to me and ask if I felt worthy of love, I would say yes. I feel like I am very loveable. *Crazy thoughts in italics* I'm great! I am perfect in every way, loving and kind in all my interactions, using impeccable communication skills and always doing my best. What's not to love about me? But what if people find out that I am not a very good stepmother? What if they saw Darin and I arguing and heard things I have said in that context? What if people could read my thoughts and see how judgemental I can be? If people knew all this stuff about me, no one would want to be around me and I would have no friends and no one would love me anymore. It sounds like a totally irrational thought, but I am fairly certain I am not the only one that harbors this fear. I am realizing that my dislike for being alone is tied directly to the fear of being unloveable. If I am alone, then that means that no one wants to spend time with me.
Lately, I have found myself wanting to be alone more. Not alone as in, 'Darin and the kids are gone,' but 'I can be by myself and find pleasure in being alone.' When I was in Louisville this summer, I walked around downtown in the middle of the night. I went to an art gallery by myself. It was a turning point for me and embracing my aloneness. I really enjoyed those few hours. This past weekend, our family had planned to go to a music festival in Berea. Darin had to work on Saturday, so I had planned for Denali and I to go down Friday night and Darin would come down Saturday night. Denali ended up staying with my parents Friday night, Which left me alone at a music festival for 24 hours. I had plenty of friends there, but it too felt like a significant step in being alone.
While these little things may seem insignificant, they are encouraging to me. I'm being pushed back into my shell. I am finding out that I can be alone and still be loved, and still love myself. I am finding aloneness to be a very beautiful thing.
In closing with the theme of beauitful aloneness, watch this.
Friday, August 6, 2010
manic panic
Today is the absolute last day before school starts for me to stay home. I had planned to work today to get ready, but I decided last night that I would stay home instead. I'm glad I did.
I'm feeling rather unhappy with my life today. I am a consumer, and I consume too much. I am very frugal and buy most things at thrift stores (usually on half price days, at that) and I have a general rule that I don't spend more than $10 on any article of clothing. I do shop to make myself feel better or when I am bored. I don't do it too often, maybe twice a month, but it really bothers me. It makes me feel like a spoiled American. I desire too many physical things.
The one thing I want the most right now is a house. I want to buy a house and decorate it. I want to buy a house that is clean to begin with, so I can keep it clean. Currently, we have outrageously cheap rent for a 5 bedroom home. The landlord has not raised the rent in over 30 years. It is a good house, full of good energy. Various friends have lived in our house for the past 20 years, filling it with art and love. All of the couples that have lived here are still together. Club Dub started in our laundry room. Two babies have entered this world in our dining room. We are allowed to make changes and paint in any way we want. The backyard is great, with a fire pit, a tire swing, clubhouse and our trampoline. But in exchange for all the good stuff, there are a lot of things that drive me crazy. If we don't run the dehumidifier, the laundry room starts smelling very musty. There aren't enough outlets in the house. One room only has one. The electrical stuff is all old. The bathtub freezes when it is cold, even if we leave the water running all night. The kitchen is small and impossible to clean. everything is impossible to clean. everything is jerryrigged in some fashion. There isn't a 90 degree angle in the whole house. I could go on for a while. This is our home and it is filled with our family and our love. We have it decorated with things we love. We have had more than one person say it is like a museum. I still haven't decided if that is a good thing.
Regardless of this, I want a house of my own. I want to fill it with nice pieces of furniture, ones that I have collected, not things that friends or family members are getting rid of. I have a few nice pieces of furniture that I really treasure. They have sentimental meaning and I want to have them in a nice, clean house. I have fantasized and looked at the Lexington Realtors website, drooling over pictures. My ideal house would be inside New Circle Road, possibly close to the Rosemont Graden area. It would be a 4 bedroom, so the girls could have their own rooms. In order to accommodate all of Darin's musical instruments, we would need a basement, garage, or spare bedroom. It would have lots of windows and a large kitchen, but no tile floors. I drop lots of things in the kitchen and if there were tile floors, everything kitchenware I own would be broken in a matter of months. The upstairs could be a special, secluded area that the girls could make into their own special space.
Lately my desire to purchase a house has been gaining momentum. I doubt we will anytime soon, but a girl can always dream.
I'm feeling rather unhappy with my life today. I am a consumer, and I consume too much. I am very frugal and buy most things at thrift stores (usually on half price days, at that) and I have a general rule that I don't spend more than $10 on any article of clothing. I do shop to make myself feel better or when I am bored. I don't do it too often, maybe twice a month, but it really bothers me. It makes me feel like a spoiled American. I desire too many physical things.
The one thing I want the most right now is a house. I want to buy a house and decorate it. I want to buy a house that is clean to begin with, so I can keep it clean. Currently, we have outrageously cheap rent for a 5 bedroom home. The landlord has not raised the rent in over 30 years. It is a good house, full of good energy. Various friends have lived in our house for the past 20 years, filling it with art and love. All of the couples that have lived here are still together. Club Dub started in our laundry room. Two babies have entered this world in our dining room. We are allowed to make changes and paint in any way we want. The backyard is great, with a fire pit, a tire swing, clubhouse and our trampoline. But in exchange for all the good stuff, there are a lot of things that drive me crazy. If we don't run the dehumidifier, the laundry room starts smelling very musty. There aren't enough outlets in the house. One room only has one. The electrical stuff is all old. The bathtub freezes when it is cold, even if we leave the water running all night. The kitchen is small and impossible to clean. everything is impossible to clean. everything is jerryrigged in some fashion. There isn't a 90 degree angle in the whole house. I could go on for a while. This is our home and it is filled with our family and our love. We have it decorated with things we love. We have had more than one person say it is like a museum. I still haven't decided if that is a good thing.
Regardless of this, I want a house of my own. I want to fill it with nice pieces of furniture, ones that I have collected, not things that friends or family members are getting rid of. I have a few nice pieces of furniture that I really treasure. They have sentimental meaning and I want to have them in a nice, clean house. I have fantasized and looked at the Lexington Realtors website, drooling over pictures. My ideal house would be inside New Circle Road, possibly close to the Rosemont Graden area. It would be a 4 bedroom, so the girls could have their own rooms. In order to accommodate all of Darin's musical instruments, we would need a basement, garage, or spare bedroom. It would have lots of windows and a large kitchen, but no tile floors. I drop lots of things in the kitchen and if there were tile floors, everything kitchenware I own would be broken in a matter of months. The upstairs could be a special, secluded area that the girls could make into their own special space.
Lately my desire to purchase a house has been gaining momentum. I doubt we will anytime soon, but a girl can always dream.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Left and Leaving
My last post on grief went far longer than I had meant it to. It turned into a flow of conciousness, which was not what I had intended. Let me try again.
After Eric died, the first year was hard. I cried a lot. I was pissed at him for doing something so stupid. I went to his grave on the anniversary of his death. I planted mums that year, four of them. The red, orange and yellow looked great around his headstone, which had been inscribed with, "Beautiful Boy." After the first year of grieving, it got better. I continued to visit his grave every October 3rd. I brought a plant each year; roses, ivy, tulip bulbs. Typically, the only time I would feel sad about his death was on the anniversary. I would wake up crying on those days. I would cry like it had just happened. My body remembered this loss. The remainder of the year was fine. I thought about it, but I was very much at peace with the fact that we all will die when at the perfect moment. We go when we are supposed to, according to a higher power, and it never seems fair to the ones left behind. This past October was the tenth anniversary. I went, I planted, I cried. I felt better the following days. The night after my birthday, in December, I woke up from a dream. Eric and I were laughing together in the back of a van. His laugh was so clear and so happy. We were just sitting and cuddling and holding hands in a way that good friends can. It was so nice. I awoke and looked at the clock. I realized that it was a dream and that it was over. I felt sad that it was over because I was greatly enjoying the dream while it lasted. I fell back asleep and went on to have three more dreams with Eric. We were so happy. He was laughing!!! He was all grown up and tall and still had his red hair, but no acne. He was handsome and he was my friend again and we were hugging. It was all 100% platonic, but also with the intensity of seeing a lover that has been away for too long. I was just so excited to be with him, I just wanted to touch him to make sure he was real. In my dream, he was. I woke up from the fourth dream and I knew that was all the time I was allowed to spend with Eric.
Since those dreams, the wound that was left by his death has been ripped open. It hurts so much more now. I had gone 10 years without him. I had grown accustomed to the fact that I would never see him again. Now, I feel like I was teased. He came and showed me that he was happy now, which is very comforting. But I also feel cheated. He was in my hands, I could feel him again, only to be taken away. Again. I feel honored that he came back to visit me, that I got to have these four more interactions with him, happy ones at that. I know it is selfish to want more. I should be so grateful that I had these, which I am. But I want more. I don't want to have to wait ten more years to hear him laugh.
I have cried more for Eric since December than I did in the previous nine years. I cried at Denali's 5th birthday party. I cried because Eric would never get to know this sweet little soul that has been entrusted to me. When I was at The Forecastle Festival In Louisville a few weeks ago, The Flaming Lips played Do You Realize? I cried again for Eric, knowing that he would have been at shows like this. I googled his name today, doubting that anything would come up. Nothing did. This made me sad. There is no record online of him. In the nearly infinite amount of information available on the internet, there wasn't one little thing about him. I don't want him to be forgotten. As I write this, I am realizing that these dreams were presented to me as a means of ensuring that my memories of him stay fresh. If they had not occurred, I would not be sitting here crying over my computer ten and a half years later. I wouldn't have thought of him at Denali's birthday party. Without those dreams, I would not be writing this post about him. You would never have known about Joshua Eric Crusott.
I could keep writing about this for a long time. Someday I will. But for now, I am unsure of how to end this post. Grief is a funny thing.
After Eric died, the first year was hard. I cried a lot. I was pissed at him for doing something so stupid. I went to his grave on the anniversary of his death. I planted mums that year, four of them. The red, orange and yellow looked great around his headstone, which had been inscribed with, "Beautiful Boy." After the first year of grieving, it got better. I continued to visit his grave every October 3rd. I brought a plant each year; roses, ivy, tulip bulbs. Typically, the only time I would feel sad about his death was on the anniversary. I would wake up crying on those days. I would cry like it had just happened. My body remembered this loss. The remainder of the year was fine. I thought about it, but I was very much at peace with the fact that we all will die when at the perfect moment. We go when we are supposed to, according to a higher power, and it never seems fair to the ones left behind. This past October was the tenth anniversary. I went, I planted, I cried. I felt better the following days. The night after my birthday, in December, I woke up from a dream. Eric and I were laughing together in the back of a van. His laugh was so clear and so happy. We were just sitting and cuddling and holding hands in a way that good friends can. It was so nice. I awoke and looked at the clock. I realized that it was a dream and that it was over. I felt sad that it was over because I was greatly enjoying the dream while it lasted. I fell back asleep and went on to have three more dreams with Eric. We were so happy. He was laughing!!! He was all grown up and tall and still had his red hair, but no acne. He was handsome and he was my friend again and we were hugging. It was all 100% platonic, but also with the intensity of seeing a lover that has been away for too long. I was just so excited to be with him, I just wanted to touch him to make sure he was real. In my dream, he was. I woke up from the fourth dream and I knew that was all the time I was allowed to spend with Eric.
Since those dreams, the wound that was left by his death has been ripped open. It hurts so much more now. I had gone 10 years without him. I had grown accustomed to the fact that I would never see him again. Now, I feel like I was teased. He came and showed me that he was happy now, which is very comforting. But I also feel cheated. He was in my hands, I could feel him again, only to be taken away. Again. I feel honored that he came back to visit me, that I got to have these four more interactions with him, happy ones at that. I know it is selfish to want more. I should be so grateful that I had these, which I am. But I want more. I don't want to have to wait ten more years to hear him laugh.
I have cried more for Eric since December than I did in the previous nine years. I cried at Denali's 5th birthday party. I cried because Eric would never get to know this sweet little soul that has been entrusted to me. When I was at The Forecastle Festival In Louisville a few weeks ago, The Flaming Lips played Do You Realize? I cried again for Eric, knowing that he would have been at shows like this. I googled his name today, doubting that anything would come up. Nothing did. This made me sad. There is no record online of him. In the nearly infinite amount of information available on the internet, there wasn't one little thing about him. I don't want him to be forgotten. As I write this, I am realizing that these dreams were presented to me as a means of ensuring that my memories of him stay fresh. If they had not occurred, I would not be sitting here crying over my computer ten and a half years later. I wouldn't have thought of him at Denali's birthday party. Without those dreams, I would not be writing this post about him. You would never have known about Joshua Eric Crusott.
I could keep writing about this for a long time. Someday I will. But for now, I am unsure of how to end this post. Grief is a funny thing.
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