Diary Entry June 2, 2013: 2:45am

This entry will be a bit different than the previous ones ... I believe it reads more like a diary, of sorts.

     I awoke crying just a bit ago, well, an hour ago to be exact. I had a dream where Danny came to my college graduation but had to leave right afterwards, so we didn't get a chance to talk. I almost didn't recognize him at first ... I had almost forgotten what he looks like. He hasn't changed at all but of course, we all knew that already. He can't. He's dead and gone. I cry again.
     My mind wanders back to the day that call came in and I see immediately all of the people who supported and comforted me ... then. Where are you all now? Don't you see that this is when I need you? After everyone else has gone home, the casket is buried in the ground and Danny is over 8 years gone. NOW is when I need you the most. But no one is there. Life goes on.
     All of my sisters and my parents came down to Mexico for the one year anniversary of Danny's death. They also came down for the second one. But no one was there for the third or any others since. I often wonder if anyone else remembers?? I mean, I know everyone knows that he's gone but do they remember that I, my husband and Danny's sisters are left to remember him every single day?? ALONE??
     I have been told that I can be taken in small doses. I'm ok with that. At the memorial service, things were said that were meant to comfort. Those words cease holding any meaning when there are not actions used to put the words into motion. "I promise to be there for you" cannot be translated to mean when it's convenient for me but should, instead, mean I will do my best to be there when YOU need ME. Isn't that what love and family is supposed to be about?? Holding one another up when we feel as though we will faint into the very ground our loved one is buried in??
    Not too long after Danny's death, I remember very vividly a conversation between my dad and I. Dad said "Isn't it sad that we wait until some tragedy strikes to reach out to the very people who mean the most to us?" I didn't have a response then. I certainly don't have any better one now. Yes, it is sad. In fact, for me, it is heartbreaking to see that we are too afraid of our emotions to open ourselves up and be a little more vulnerable with our family than we are with anyone else. After all, aren't family the very people God put in our lives so we could build one another up in love and comfort?? So we could even clarify some of His purpose for our very lives ... to help one another understand what His purpose is in our lives??
     For such a gentle, loving and giving soul to be taken so early in life just leaves me speechless and, perhaps, breathless. I find it harder these days to catch my breath when I think of Danny. It is harder not to cry because I know that most think it gets easier. It does not.   
    I am sad. I am struck by the irrevocable call of death. The very fact that once it is done, it cannot be undone. Danny is gone. Forever. Period.
     Last night Dave and I were on the "Portland Spirit" (a dinner yacht) for a Veteran's Ball. Dave gave a short speech to honor the MIA/POW table and when he was done, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. I was reminded of not only how short life can be, but for others, how long life can seem once a loved one is gone. I am certain that the last 8 years of my life have gone by much faster than the previous 41. I am also just as certain that my heart will get no less empty as the days go by. Don't get me wrong ... I don't feel sorry for myself. I am sorry for all of the people who never knew my Danny. 
     Through the last 8 years, I have changed. Some would say drastically. Others would say marginally. But I have changed and no one could deny that. I believe in my God more today than I did 8 years ago. I have seen Him perform miracle after miracle, and I love Him for who He is. Do I still question why Danny is gone? Yep. Do I honestly expect an answer? Nope. 
     When Dave and I (and the family) went to Danny's apartment after his memorial, to gather some of his things, it was awkward and odd. In the kitchen area there was a refrigerator placed in front of a fairly large window. For some reason, Dave felt the need to scoot it away from the window. When he did, the wind was knocked out of both of our sails. There, on the window in the fog from the condenser on the refrigerator, in Danny's handwriting, was this message ... "Don't worry mom, I'll be ok". You could have heard a pin drop as Dave and I looked at one another and I was able to smile for the first time in days.
     I think back to that day and am surprised that I didn't faint. The rest of the day is such a blur, I guess I could have and wouldn't necessarily remember doing so. So this is the hope I cling to ... that Danny is, in fact, OK. In fact, that he's better than ok and playing baseball with his great grampa up in heaven. 
     People have asked me a myriad of questions about what I think heaven will be like. I have no clue really. I do believe that I will know my Danny when I see him. I choose to believe that we will be able to give one another the biggest bear hug ever. Is that Biblical? I doubt it. But I honestly don't think God minds if that one single thought makes me a more willing and even eager participant in what His plan is for my life.
     I love God and am thankful for those He has put in my life. Whether we are in one another's life for a reason, a season or a lifetime, it is because of His perfect timing and knowledge of what we will need and when we will need it. Keep counting on Him to pull you through whatever life hands you. That's what I do.