For a very long time, every morning, I’d wake up and the realization would sink in again.
Rory is gone.
It wasn’t a nightmare.
She’s not coming back.
It’s a hard realization to get hit with every day.
The hit isn’t as hard as it used to be. I still feel it every morning. Now, I mostly tell her how much I miss her.
Last night I had a dream. (I know I keep telling you about dreams! Sorry!)
We were on a cruise as a family and Rory showed up.
She came back to us in all her 8-year-old glory!
She ran up and held my hand.
I stared at her for a minute. Then I asked around to no one in particular, “Is she here to stay?”
Then I seemed to get a confirmation.
I told everyone as we walked. “It took two years but we got it. We finally got our miracle. She was gone but she came back to us.”
I couldn’t help but spread the word to everyone we saw. I was elated! She was back!
It took two years, but she was back.
I couldn’t let her go. I just kept holding her hand, giving her hugs.
Talking to her.
Loving on her.
Listening to her.
Then I woke up.
Normally a dream like that sends me spiraling. Because I miss her so dang much.
This morning, I was grateful to have a few minutes with her. Even if it was just all in my head.
To feel her close to me.
To hear her laugh and have fun.
To have my family whole.
To imagine what our reunion might be.
It was a beautiful few minutes.
Love you, Baby Girl.