This morning I woke up crying from a nightmare I'd had. Does that ever happen to you?
I dreamed that Ryan & I were going on a trip with another couple (I don't know who they were), and our flight had been delayed to the next morning, so we all headed back to our hotel. Somehow in the transition to the hotel, I got a call from my Mom and suddenly I was there with her in some kitchen I didn't recognize. She was walking around straightening things up, my brother (20)(who is currently serving an LDS mission in Orlando, FL) was sitting on a barstool, and I stood beside him. My youngest sister (14) was sitting on the counter next to the stove.
As I looked at her, I was startled because she looked different - faded, maybe? Then, my mom explained that my youngest sister had died. I looked at my sister, who just smiled back at me somewhat blankly, then to my brother for some kind of explanation of what my mom had just said. Before I could say anything, my mom continued to explain that my sister had gone on a trip with her best friend and the friend's family to a cabin in northern Idaho. Something happened, and my sister was kidnapped, hurt, and died. Then, my sister started talking to me. I don't remember what she said - I just remember being surprised that she looked happy and peaceful. Suddenly I was back with Ryan and this other couple. Apparently the night had passed, and we were boarding our flight. I just kept thinking to myself, "My sister died last night. My sister died last night."
Then, I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks into my ears. Desperate for something real/not related to my dream/a chance to not fall back asleep, I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my glasses and made my way to the bathroom. Once there, I looked at my reflection. My face was puffy and blotched, but I was surprised to see that my eyes were hard. It was then that I recognized a nasty feeling of hatred for the fictional person who had fictionally taken my sweet sister from me. This feeling is so out of character for me, that I started crying again, startled. I allowed a few minutes of recovery to pass. Then I wobbled down the hall, turned on my cell phone and sent a text message to my (still very much alive) sister. I said something to the effect of "Just wanted to say 'take care of yourself.' I love you."
Feeling a little better, I went back to bed. I was struck with a strong sense of calm as I turned to face the window.
I realized that I had cried for my sister's fictional pain. I had cried because I would miss her desperately.
I did not cry for her loss, because I knew I would see her again. I knew it the whole time. I know it now.
Whoosh! The tears! Again!
This time they were tears of gratitude for my knowledge, for the Plan of Happiness, for a family I love so much, and for such a tender and loving Heavenly Father.
It's been a weird few days, but I am determined to regain control of my life. It seems to have spun out of control these last couple of weeks! That dazed/lost feeling seems to be subsiding. Thank goodness. There is so much to do! I don't want to waste any of my opportunities.
If I haven't been a good friend lately, I apologize. Mini personal crisis. I think I'm getting over it.
Also, we made chocolate cupcakes tonight! Time to go frost them. How does butterscotch buttercream sound? (Mmm!)