I'm sick. Like my body aches and stuffy nose, load up on Dayquil to make it sick. It's pretty horrible. But helping with the whole no smoking thing. I'm on day 8 or 9 of that. I've lost count. I'm not longer a smoker and don't even really think about it except in extremely stressful moments. Looking forward to not using the patch any longer now that habits are broken. But anyway, the really point to this post is my dad. Being sick, I fell asleep around 6:15 last night, woke up around 8:30, put my kiddos to bed (relax they were with their dad until 8:30) Then I was still tired and so freaking achy but I could not fall asleep. I think I kept dozing off but just SO miserable. The last time I looked at the clock it was 4am.
At 6 am my alarm woke me up.
Sometime in that time period - 4am - 6am, for the first time in over three years, I saw my dad in a dream. The nightmares I had had previously, he was never in them, it was the plane crash, the search, the site, grotesque findings and such, never him.
Not last night - or this morning. It was him. I was standing in front of him screaming and crying. I can't remember my words. But his I will never forget. "I am right here sissy. Look at me. I'm standing and I'm fine. You're not listening to me. Listen Kristi Eileen, I am RIGHT HERE. I AM STANDING AND I AM FINE." That is what he said to me over and over and over. And I am right here saying that I am going to fully believe that it was him that came and let me know finally that he, his spirit, is OK. Could be my mind, could be the Dayquil, could be a million things, or not a single thing. I am going to choose to believe that it was him telling me he was fine. That is my choice.
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