I finally finished Heaven by Randy Alcorn today.  It was a really good book.  Matter of fact, I cried all during the last chapter.

 

This book has taken me perhaps the longest any single book has taken me to read.  I actually consider it quite a feat for myself to have finished a 475-page non-fiction anthology on what the Bible says about heaven.

 

I did cry because it was beautiful.  But I also cried because, in finishing it, so many emotions came rushing back to me that I didn't know how else to handle it.  Cassie brought me this book home from the library a mere two weeks after Jamie's death.  I've persisted with this book through the struggles of Christmas, my job change, the season that carried the brunt of my agony, a whirlwind of raging emotions and hormones.... and James finally getting his official grave marker.

 

You see, I believe I must have thought at the time that reading this book would somehow bring me closer to James -- maybe would answer some of my questions and help me understand where he is and where I someday will be as well.  And it did clear up alot of things for me.  But after closing it for the last time, besides taking note of the slight wear that has now been issued to a book that was originally in "like new" condition, I realized something that for some reason seemed to surprise me:  James is still dead.

 

Reading this book didn't bring him back.  Of course I knew it wouldn't.... didn't I? 

 

I mean I know I can't be making much sense, but for some reason since finishing this book today there's this gaping hole that I don't understand. 

 

Did I really think it would make that much difference?

This should be steadily progressing, but instead I'm growing worse.

 

I'm really starting to worry about myself and how I am going to handle this.  If you're a praying person, please pray.

Sorry guys, I had another meltdown the other day.  It's this neverending cycle with me.

 

I'm going to church this morning as soon as I finish this cereal.  I always feel so much better when I'm talking to God as opposed to when I'm ignoring him, as I have been lately.

 

But my gosh I've been sleeping my life away the last little while.  I fell asleep on the couch Friday night while my two friends were still over at my house,  then slept til 11:30 yesterday.  I got called into work, so I went in from 2-7 p.m.  I had my mind on all this stuff I wanted to do after I got off, but instead I took a long hot bath, shaved my legs, then got sat down in front of the TV with Mom to watch 48 Hours Mystery.  BUT, before I could even see who did it, I fell asleep on the couch AGAIN (let me just take this moment to say I'm unaccustomed to being able to fall asleep anywhere but in my bed).  Mom tried to wake me up to go to bed but I wouldn't budge, and thus slept on til about 2 a.m. when I finally managed to crawl off the couch and into my bed.  Then I made myself get up just a few minutes ago for church.

 

In other news, I'm sure it wouldn't surprise anyone to know that I'm totally not feeling Valentines Day this year.  And it's bugging me that James and his mom STILL have Christmas trees sitting on their graves =P  Since I've been brought to the conclusion that no one really goes up there besides me (and Shelia when she happens to be in town), I'm going to take it upon myself to take them off.  But I don't want to do that until I have something else to put on them.  And I don't get paid until the Friday after V-Day, so I'm afraid they'll just have to have Christmas for Valentine's Day until I can get up there to change the arrangements.

 

I do assume it's okay for me to do that.  I mean, if no one else is going to, then I don't see why not.  Some people just aren't graveyard people.  They don't want to go back after their loved ones are buried, but me?  I love them.  Even before anyone I loved died, I actually enjoyed going to graveyards and reading tombstones to imagine the lives people had.  And I'm into honoring the physical sides of people as well, so I take flowers.  Some people consider that to be morbid, but I'm getting so I really don't care.

 

So I'm going to make myself stay awake today and get stuff done that needs to be attended to before the Superbowl party at my bro's tonight.

 

By the way,  has anyone ever read the book The Devils of Loudon?

I thought it was getting better, but I was wrong.  I came as close as I can come to finding out they sold the house today.

 

And the super bowl is coming our direction, as well as Valentine's Day, and the whole world can just go on its merry way like bad things don't happen and everything is okay.

 

Well it's not okay.  This is not a happy carefree world we live in and it's just

 

not

 

okay.

I think the whole thing just really sucks.

Let's go to bed til time to take dinner out of the oven.

Oh yeah:  Guys, meet Jamie.  This is the only picture I took of him on my camera phone.

Given my new job at Hospice, I don't have a chance at watching the soaps anymore.  But I've caught Y&R a couple times lately at the homes of one of my patients, and what can I say?

 

The romance going on between Professor Korbel and Colleen is making me totally HOT.  I don't have any idea why, except for the whole older man/younger woman thing that I sorta had going on for Jamie.  And since I can't HAVE Jamie, my imagination must be trying to compensate.

 

Holy cow though, I won't say what else... yeah.  Anyway.

 

I really am liking my job so far.  Of course I haven't actually gone out on my own yet, but I will Friday, and I think that for the most part, I'm ready.  It's a good damn thing I'm at least excited about that part of my life, because the minute I walk in the door to the house, I want to go straight to bed.  I turned in last night about 6 p.m. and slept solid til this morning.  And I've a notion I could do the same thing tonight.

 

That's it for today, cuz I gotta pee.

w00t guys, I've changed my theme yet again!

 

I dunno whether I'll keep this one for long or not.  I find myself rather drawn to the ones that make me feel like I'm underwater.

 

.....although this really isn't one of them.

RIGHT, well......

I dunno.

In a way I think I'm doing a little better.  But funny thing is, I'm crying more than I even was.

How is this making sense?  Well, I think I must be moving from one stage of grief into another.  And even though it still hurts, every phase of grief I move through has to be viewed as progress.  Only thing is, I've been a little pressed to figure out exactly what phase of grief I'm in, what ones I've already been through, and what ones I have left.  I ought to expect this, but nothing I've felt yet seems to match a Grief & Bereavement textbook.  I mean yeah, I see very rough, sketchy outlines of the different phases sometimes, but more often than not I feel like I'm experiencing them all, only how they manifest themselves seem almost like.... new, uncharted phases.  Like I'm creating a whole new phase of grief just by my crazy emotions.

Of course I know there are people out there who undoubtedly have felt all I'm feeling before, sometimes I just feel so alone when I match up my grief experience with other people's.  Which I know I shouldn't do, but I still do it.

I guess the closest thing I can come to in describing this "phase" is that this morning, on my way to work, I found myself praying "God, tell Jamie I'm becoming more and more glad that he is where he is.  I wouldn't have him come back for the world.  I'm over being angry at him for leaving me and all that stuff.  But the problem I'm having now is I still love him -- and I don't know what to do.  What do you do with love that pulses through you every waking moment when the person on the receiving end nowhere to be found?  There just isn't anything I can DO about it, and that's what's driving me crazy."

I'm sure there's a way that accomplished mourners learn to let love simply be what it is.  But I haven't hit that yet.  I mean, I keep seeing him smiling, keep wanting to reach out and touch his face, keep thinking "Gosh, I wonder if Jamie would've liked this" or "I wonder what he'd say if he knew this?"  And I want to pick the phone up and call him, but then it hits me, he isn't any longer.

Sure, he's in heaven, and I absolutely believe that with all my heart, but how do I know how much he can see or how much he even gives a rat's ass about that's going on down here?

Oh boy, then I start getting angry again.  Why did I have to fall in love with you if you weren't even going to be around for me to be able to express it?  James and I cared for each other deeply as friends, but it's no secret that we felt differently about each other in terms of romance.  But you know, when he was alive, he let me love him.  He permitted the long goodbye hugs, the extra minute or two I would hold onto his hands after slathering lotion on them.  Of course I didn't just do stuff like that all the time, because I wanted to seem at least halfway cool and collected around him.  Sometimes I was just content to watch him live his beautiful, courageous life.  The entire time, though, I think he could practically drink the adoration spilling out of my eyes it was so noticeable -- even though I tried to shade them.

And I was left with all of it.  I carried it all when he was living, and that was hard enough.  But now, there's just nothing I can do when he crosses my mind.

So I can't really tell if I'm progressing or regressing, when it's all said and done.  I think I just contradicted myself.  Oh well, nevermind.

to say....

I love you so, so much.  You're who I think about first and last in the course of a day, and many times in between.  I see your face in my mind, and become so exhiliarated it's hard to equate your person with the notion of death.  All I ever saw when I looked at you was life, even throughout all your suffering.  Even in the hospital with a tube in your nose, I felt a beautiful vitality surge through me when I looked into your green eyes.

I want to kiss you again... God it seems like an eternity since I did.  Now that you can see all my imperfections and faults, I'm sure I seem anything but sexy to you.  I don't know how often you're with me, or how often I even cross your mind, but I think I'm doing enough loving right now for the both of us. 

I want you under my skin, I want to be there where you are.  I want to bask in the glory of who you were and still are, somewhere away from here.  Just you.  You you you, all in me and over me and through me, and I wish more than anything I were a spirit too so I could see the world through your eyes right now.  I'm not afraid of dying.  I'm not afraid of being desperately ill, because both of those things would bring me closer to you.

Please don't fade away.  Don't let the rift of time and memory break my connection with you.

I entreat, may it not be so. 

 Mine was better than expected.  I stayed pretty busy, which always helps.

Mom got me a charm to put on a gold chain and wear as a necklace.  It's beautiful -- upon initially opening it, I saw it had a "J" in the middle of a heart, but didn't think much about it because that's the first letter of my own name.  Then I looked up at my mom's face, and finally got it.

Needless to say, I put it on promptly and haven't taken it off since then.  It works pretty good that my initial and his are the same, so that way most people will see the "J" and not ask questions that I really couldn't be bothered answering. 

We went up on Christmas Eve for me to spread rose petals over his grave, which Cassie said she always viewed as an "erotic" practice =P  But since I personally didn't, I asked a couple more opinions before finally coming to the conclusion that that's just Cassie.   

In other news, I had a dream last night that I was a fourth grade kid who ended up having a torrid affair with my teacher.  Only it seemed like I was much older than fourth grade -- more like seventh or eighth.  Anyway, me and this teacher screwed each other all through this crazy dream, and in every location imaginable, and then when I woke up.... I felt like I'd been screwing all night.

But in my defense, somewhere in the middle of the dream I stopped being a fourth grader and started being me again.  All I remember about the guy is that he had a pencil-sized *#?&.

Is this crazy or what?!