6wp3dt 6w5d This World is Forever Changed

I'm sorry you haven't heard from me.  As is life's inevitable pattern for this girl, hugely wonderful news has been faithfully followed by something I've been dreading for the last few years.  The loss of my beautiful and wonderful, classy and sassy Grandmother, Dreama, happened yesterday at 1:34 in the afternoon.  She was surrounded by her equally incredible daughters.  She died in her own little bed, in her own nightie, on her own pillow just they way she wanted.  

Every time I saw her the past two years,  I found myself saying good bye.  I knew that we would lose her, and that maybe it wouldn't be in God's plan for me to be by her side.  I am heartbroken that I can't snuggle up with her in her bed anymore, and feel that little extra squeeze she saved for me at the end of every hug. Every time I walked into a house where she was I would yell "Hello, my Dreama!" and she would exclaim in true Dreama fashion "Ohhhhhhhhhh it's my Cristy!" while rushing to greet me.  It's funny that we would both describe each other with "ownership" words.  As if we loved to declare to the world that we belonged to each other.  As an adoptee, I think that the way she loved me, as if I was hers without an inkling of doubt, filled a hole in me and helped me become whole.

Dreama had a little box on her white kitchen table. In it are prayers for each of her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren.  She prayed these faithfully every day.  For ten years there has been a slip of paper in there for hubby and I, for this baby already so loved.  I have long yearned to see a child of mine in her arms.  Now, today, in heaven I choose to believe she's holding the one's I've lost, gazing into thier faces as I've longed to do, loving them and letting them know they belong the same way she loved me.

I hope they have hard rolls with butter and strawberry jelly in heaven, I will be picturing all of them, in blue robes, around a little white kitchen table, that prayer box in the center, tearing off little crusty  pieces of bread, while they are still too hot to touch, putting on a chunk of real butter, and the right ratio of jelly. Enjoying the company of My Dreama.

I'm headed to Buffalo to stand at my mother's side.  If you're looking for me, you just might find me snuggled up in Dreama's bed, hiding under the covers having a good cry.

This pregnancy is one of Dreama's miracles.  I've asked her to protect it.  While she's gazing into the tiny little faces of those we've lost, I know she will move heaven and earth to make sure my arms are full as soon as possible.  My Dreama would say, "nobody deserves it more!". Well I say, nobody deserves heaven more than my Dreama.  

I wonder if an angel's gown would include a feather boa?  Well it should!!!!!