GriefShare Support Group

<<<Sidenote First>>>...The night before the support group meeting Jen appeared in my dreams again.  We were back at high school age.  I sat down with her at a lunch table, but it felt like we hadn't 'officially' met yet.  Awkward stares and moments of silence.  I started to talk and then she was standing, staring, concerned.  It had a feeling like, "How dare you talk to me, you don't know me."  Well, maybe not that harsh, but definitely a guarded body language.  I began again, almost in a pleading fashion, but do not recall the exact words...or any words for that matter.  Not sure if I was asking for her to return, asking for forgiveness over 'yelling' at her and saying I was done with the spirit-hijinx, or trying to get out the elusive message that has bothered me for so long.

Additionally, I have started reading the book Radical Forgiveness.  It is a strange way of reframing the issue with the deceased (in my specific case).  Strange in that it is not forgiveness so much as viewing the hurt through a different set of assumptions.  I have just started, so I need to complete the book to fully work the process, but at a high level, we (our souls) all begin as energy, one with God, and connected.  We come to Earth in human form to experience the pain of being separated from God and the collective, and to learn a (pre-determined) set of lessons.  We sign up for the specific and individual experience.  We develop an (or possibly many) assumption from an early experience, likely our lesson that we signed up for, and usually an incorrect conclusion based on flawed assumptions that we developed.  Patterns of hurt continue to repeat in various ways until we work through the flawed assumption.  Other souls are tuned into our soul needs and even provide the hurts and situations we need to correct and learn our lesson.  So we are not actually looking to learn to forgive these souls, but rather to thank them for pushing us to find the solutions that we are here to learn and experience.  At least that is what I think that I have read so far.

So I need to figure out my hurt and the incorrect assumptions that have lead me to keep embracing them and encountering them and then I can see how Jen's accident contributed to the lesson that I need to learn.  Hopefully, later chapters help to identify the underlying bad assumption and hurt.  The ideas that I have bouncing around in my head include, "I matter/My needs matter/I am important enough (at least to the collective)", something around feeling Lost or Destabilized, and/or "I am allowed to be happy", or ???

It is an interesting way to reframe the situation(s), and has lightened my spirits, so I feel it is going in a positive path forward.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...I went to my first support group meeting, GriefShare.  Upon introducing myself, I only mentioned Jen's death, as that is the one that I keep reliving.  Most others were sharing a multitude of tragedies, so I did feel blessed in a way that waves of death and grief are not my derailment scenario.  The format is one of a video lesson compiled by experts and peppered with first hand accounts of the grief journey, followed by a sharing of reactions and experiences to what we were just exposed to.  It has only been one meeting (of 12 or 13 weeks), but I think the format works and I am very much willing to continue down the path.  There were a few interesting nuggets in video that will warrant further exploration.

• The experience of being numb right after and not recalling much in the first days (even to the point of someone on the video wishing that they had videotaped the funeral).
• That grief is a consequence of Love - where more Love means more hurt upon death.

And while not necessarily called out in specifics, I wanted to dive into more of the notion of

• How to rebuild or recreate relationships and the feeling of connection lost when these important people in our lives are ripped away from us.

I missed the next meeting and got back on track for the third session.  This one went a little sideways...The volunteer leader was not there (out from a surgery) and the group was left to her second in command.  A combination of maybe not explaining myself well in my comments within the group (trying to share that each journey is unique) and this second in command liking to talk, I didn't feel like I was allowed to feel the way I do or the actions that I have taken need to change.  Seemed contrary to the video message and all of the experts' opinions.  This may be one of the downsides to volunteer led groups, someone with a therapy background and experience may be needed to fully realize the benefits of this type of group therapy.  Perhaps I am being too sensitive and need to hear these critiques...I just left feeling, not angry, but disrupted.

I'll give it a couple more weeks before pulling the rip cord and we will see.

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Can You Spare a Dime?

I thought I was done. Recovery in process. Moving on...But the Tilt-A-Whirl does not stop. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that my mind does not let it stop.

After meeting Jen's family back in August 2020, I had been reflecting on the visit. The soul crushing sadness is gone. Replaced by a low-level sadness, sure. But I think that I needed confirmation that the person I knew was really the person others knew her as too. I was afraid that the two would not be the same, that I was elevating, romanticizing, a connection that was not there or real. Not really interacting with people she knew, I didn't know if they knew the same person. The meeting was good to me in this regard. Confirmation was obtained. Her family brought up memories that were in sync with mine. I was able to answer questions that they had. And they answered many of my questions. I was able to add to back stories, share our single 'date'. It was new information for them, perhaps a little shocking to her Mother, but satisfying to her sister that Jen was able to pull off some typical, even rebellious, teenage shenanigans. The meeting was sufficient to put those concerns to rest. It felt like the door was closing, I had a feeling of peace, healing, and closure could set in and I could move on. I even 'received' a dime at the QuikTrip afterwards, my sign from Jen that she was there, and perhaps smiling.

It seems comical now that I would doubt my relationship and connection to the 'real Jen', but in isolation and after this many years, a mind can play cruel tricks. I was even starting to come to a realization that I may not have been the person for her (if a long term Jen were to have existed), no matter how much I loved her. I just would not have been the person that could have gotten her to her dreams and potential. The funny thing is, by and large, I think I'm okay with it. And in a way that I never would have been back then, if she had to have told me. Intellectually, I know the what-if's are fruitless...yet I still find myself deep in that hole. The recent change that I am starting to come to grips with, even if the accident didn't happen, 'we' may not have happened...or if I did somehow will it to happen, it may have ended poorly. Maybe it is a closure thing in my mind. That she was ripped away and closure (good or bad) never happened. But the more I play with the idea, the more the realization comes that, despite my level of love, I am not sure that the final outcome would have been good. And yeah, that would have sucked, but it would have also been such a disservice to her.

So my emotions began to settle down, for about a month. Then in late September, guess who was calling me in my dreams? What the fuck is wrong with my noggin? I seriously feel done, over it. Sadness has left the building. Why can't my unconscious come for the ride? In the dream, I even told her that I was done. Over it. Seriously, it's okay. She calls me back crying? WTF?!?! I got the confirmation that I was searching for. As much closure as can be expected. What the hell is left, what is my mind still searching for? Is it now just a long, drawn out ache from a hole in my soul? Does this wound ever heal? It has been 30+ years and I still have not figured it out. I have a sneaking suspicion that I never will. And the dimes stopped appearing...

Did I chase her away? Damage the memory or the relationship? With a dead person??? I am sorry! That is not what I meant to do. But I feel like I hurt her...her ghost. I want the dimes back. The gentle reminders, Jen popping into situations and saying, "Hi!", or sometimes even scolding me.

Why do I continue to be drawn towards stories or movies or songs of sadness? Is that the only emotion that I think that I have left to feel? I'm tired of feeling that weight, yet I continue down a path of emotional torment and destruction. Do I feel guilty for feeling happiness? Am I trying to feel other emotions and the only thing that I can muster is sadness? I started re-watching "13 Reasons Why" after my daughter heard the song "The Night We Met" on my playlist and asked, "Depressed much?" I had no idea what she was talking about. She mentioned that it was from the show and I couldn't remember it in there. As I continued to watch the show, it all seemed fresh, like I had never watched it the first time around. When the song came up in the first season, it hit me hard. When it started playing in the second season (which I was less prepared for), I was a blubbering mess. As I watch the series this second time, it was different. I was watching, searching, for a roadmap forward that would help me navigate my feelings. As if I could get guidance from Clay on how to proceed forward, through the loss, even though the death of Hannah and of Jen were very different, the shocking and abrupt loss was similar. Sadly, it did not satisfy those curiosities and no solution was obtained.

I am left with torment and loneliness. Silly, self-inflicted. I feel abandoned by Jen, but at my own doing. And no clear path towards resolution. I ask for her to return, but why? Wouldn't this continue my torture? Did she leave because I hurt her with my statements that I was done and over it? Or does she think that this is best for me? Is it? I am slowly descending into madness, asking for a ghost or spirit or angel to return. One that I told to go away...but I miss it. I miss her!

Why? I have a great family! Some good friends. What is missing that I need? A connection? Or some sort of an answer (and to what question)? So tired...of hurting. Of aching. Of being stuck.

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Meeting the Family

The meet-up happened!  

Of course, it went even better than I expected.  Intellectually, I knew it would.  Emotionally, I was shaking in my boots.  Jennifer’s sister has always been incredibly open, warm, encouraging, and welcoming.  There was no reason to expect any different.  However, I did start to experience Dallas’ devious (in a fun way) nature.  She mentioned that she had invited her Mom to the meet-up, and had let me know.  Honestly, that made me nervous.  As I mentioned in the last entry, I had not had direct interactions with her…ever.  Not sure how to adequately describe the nervousness.  It was not fear, I didn’t think she was going to yell at me or anything like that.  Perhaps it was the 30+ years of hard-wiring in my head to not cause harm, hurt, or emotional distress on Jen’s parents; they had their child stolen away and I can not imagine a greater hurt.  We enter the cemetery and navigate towards the area where Jennifer is.  There are 3 cars and 5 ladies waiting for us!  Her sister invited her aunts too!  Another car with an aunt and uncle rolls up as we are exiting our vehicle.  A half-circle of family forms around me, with my daughter abandoning me off to the side.  A video call was added to include another aunt!  A round of “Hi”s and introductions and then straight to the meat of the discussion…Who are you and how did you know Jennifer?  They want the details!  Wow!  Stress…

In all fairness, they were extremely nice and welcoming, even from the start.  Dallas (Jennifer’s Sister) confessed that she could sense my nervousness, so she just omitted the fact (playfully and deviously) that all of the family was coming.  Was probably a smart move on her part!  As the story unfolds, due to the ages of all of the aunts (being younger sisters of Jen’s Mom), they were like big sisters to Jennifer and had a tight connection.  After the accident, they stepped in and were active in helping raising Jennifer’s two (much) younger sisters.  They were very ingrained into the family, before and after.  Through the three hours we ultimately spent together, you could tell that they were closer than what I would describe as a typical Aunt-Niece relationship.

I start off with how we met, and how the relationship formed.  The endless hours on the phone together (their memories begin the endless agreements of recollection) and the dynamic of how our relationship was a connection of just us, the single point of connection of our social circles.  The phone leads to memories of other items in her room, the Hard Rock Teddy Bear that I had given her comes up.  I offer the back story of this item, how it was the only souvenir that I had returned from New York City with.  The desire, even deterministic expectation, that she would become the first woman president.  Inside, I start to feel relief.  A long-standing question in my mind, was this a far-flung whimsy that was only shared with me, or something that she believed, even was working towards?  Confirmation that this was discussed with everyone else elevates it from flight of fancy to a key mechanism in who she was.  It also starts the confirmation process in my mind that I did actual know her.  Silly, perhaps, but after this many years of only telling stories to people that had not met her, my own mind has beaten me up with the possibility that I did not even know the Real Jennifer.

I mention that the forcefulness of some of her demands still compel me not to participate in certain activities.  They demand to know more, what activities?  It gets tricky.  These are people that I have just met.  People that are held in high regard in my eyes.  I do not want to let them down, but I also do not want to dive into more deviant and illegal activities, for fear of judgement.  I try to dodge, but ultimately am coerced into spilling the beans.  LSD.  Jen was adamant that I never take acid.  She had mentioned some stories about it staying in your system and causing permanent craziness.  I thought that it was horseshit, but at the time, she was so forceful, so insistent, that I did not press the issue too far or too long.  They all started nodding in agreement and understanding, she had a cousin that this did in fact happen to, so the fear she had was very much close to their family.  New (more complete) information.  More stories are exchanged.  Laughter.  Tears.  Hugs.

I bring up the encounter with the medium.  Figure that if I haven’t shocked them with the LSD story, then anything is fair game.  They are surprisingly onboard.  I tell of the shifts in thinking that the medium had suggested, that I might need to forgive Jennifer for walking across the Rainbow Bridge, and that meeting my wife so shortly after was a gift from Jennifer.  They seemed to understand the forgiveness angle (and had likely had to travel that path themselves).  They all liked, and latched on to, the idea of the gift.  I filled in details surrounding meeting my wife and how my thoughts of it happening because of the accident had caused serious conflict within me.  The idea of a gift was ratified.

As we move through the various stories and comparing notes, I get to the single date that we had.  WHAT?!?  These ladies we are new to me, so I wasn’t quite sure on the facial expressions and body language, but there seemed to be some shock (and perhaps delight from her sister).  Later texts with Dallas seemed to confirm my read of the situation.  Apparently, Jennifer never told her parents she was going on a date.  Out with friends perhaps, or whatever else a teenager can conjure up to get out of the house with minimal parental resistance.  I do seem to recall that when I arrived that Jennifer bolted out the house door and into the vehicle.  I didn’t think anything of it at the time, why would I?  She was in my car and I was happy with that.  So, as I let this story unfold, I see her Mom’s face, a combination of confusion, wonder, and shock.  As I look around, Dallas seems almost giddy.  This is the first sign of ‘non-typical’ emotion for this kind of meeting.  I hurry through, brain still hard-wired to do no harm.  Follow-up texts with Dallas, that were about other specifics, and she confirms that her parents had no idea that Jen was going on a date, and Dallas was somewhat happy that her sister was able to pull off some ‘standard’ teenage rebellion tactics and enjoy some of the rights of passage that teens navigate.  More stories are bounced back and forth.  Laughter.  Tears.  Hugs.

I had stopped at the grocery store on the way and purchased a few roses, a white one that I had given her Mother upon meeting, a yellow one, given to Dallas upon arrival, and a red one for Jen’s tombstone.  All through these stories, the red one is my shield.  I am waving it around as an extension of my arm when talking and grasping it with both hands when listening, its thorns pricking me as a reminder to place it.  I suggest it is time to place the rose and we all begin to move towards the grave.  It is a location that I could pinpoint on a map, point to from 30,000 feet above, but as I turn to go there, I am lost, wandering.  Dallas points me in the right direction.  The mass of people divides into two groups, one with me, one with my daughter.  I can only imagine that they are peppering her with questions to understand me, or our family better.

Aunt Patty is the main person around me.  We talk through a multitude of stories, some off topic (of Jen specifically), but still therapeutic.  We stumble back to the medium and belief in their abilities to connect.  She talks about ‘gifts’ left behind by those that walk the Rainbow Bridge (my term).  I share the thought that Jen leaves dimes for me to find in some of the most random locations.  It feels like she is saying “Hi”, or sometimes scolding me even.  Whenever I find one on the ground somewhere, I stop to pick it up and reply back “Hi Jen”.

Aunt Patty mentions that she spends no time at the grave-sites of those she has lost, until today.  It is just too hard.  Yet we are close to three hours in.  She mentions that this meeting has been very therapeutic, even cleansing.  I feel happy that I could help get her to this point.  The two groups regather as one as she is saying goodbyes.  Somehow we get on the topic of talking about doing things and then never getting around to actually doing them.  This sparks the memories of talking about skydiving with Jennifer.  Some of the family had gone skydiving.  I share stories about how Jennifer and I would talk at length about jumping.  We were locked in, we were going to go after she turned 18 and didn’t need the parental waiver, or just a general rule of the diving school for no one under 18.  That these were plans that never had the opportunity to be completed.  That life happens after we make grand plans.  And that I did jump twice, one for each of us.

The sun is going down (are we going to be locked in the cemetery?).  We say our goodbyes and leave.  My daughter and I still have about an hour drive to Kansas City for our hotel.  After we exit the Turnpike, our hotel is on a street off to the left.  I miss the turn.  Looking down the road a little, I see a QuikTrip.  Good!  I can stop there and get a soda for the night and then we can turn around to get on the correct side road.  Walking out of the QuikTrip, there is a dime on the ground…Yeah, it was a good meetup, Jen.

In the days/weeks following the get together, I am surprised how my thoughts and feelings are seeming to shift.  If I start to think about Jennifer now, sure, there is still some sadness that she is not alive, but it is no longer the soul-crushing grief that it used to be.  There is a growing acceptance, even smiles at the good memories and the reaffirmation that I knew her.  Who would have guessed that, even after 30+ years, meeting with her family was ultimately what I would have needed to get over it.  I feel silly at the simplicity…

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Upcoming - Meeting Jennifer's Family…Very Nervous

So fast forward to mid-2020.  Dreams with Jennifer still occur, at an approximate monthly rate.  The emotional impact is not as debilitating as in previous months.  There is still this nagging notion that there is a message that needs to be transferred.  Still don't know what the message is or if I am delivering or receiving the message, just that there is a message.  Then it happens that I have an excuse to go through Topeka, to possibly meet Jennifer’s sister.  In our last conversations, she mentioned that if I ever came through town to give her a shout.

Backstory – ‘Therapy’ Generates New Perspectives

A couple months ago, I went for a massage.  My back had been hurting and I needed more than just the pills.  The masseuse also happened to be a medium (able to talk to spirits).  Conversation bounced around a little and then Jennifer came up.  The medium gave me a couple of interesting nuggets to chew upon.

At first the topic of forgiveness came up.  I am thinking, “Yes, I have heard this all before.”  But I didn’t feel the need for forgiveness…I didn’t cause the accident, I wasn’t there, couldn’t have done something different to prevent it…I am not asking for forgiveness.  The medium, innocently, asked, “What about forgiving her for the accident?”  WOW!  Such a simple shift of perspective.  So simple, but it has eluded me for so long.  Definitely an angle that needs exploration but has the potential to be very liberating.  I am working through this currently.  How to forgive in general, how to forgive someone that is no longer here, how to forgive such a big event.

The next nugget was the medium saying that meeting Tammy (my wife, we met very shortly after Jen’s accident) was a gift from Jennifer.  Again, mind blown.  I have spent years almost feeling guilty that Tammy, my family, and all the good and joy from family would have never happened without the accident.  Feeling guilty that the accident had to occur for all the beginning events in my family to fall into place.  That I am benefiting from enormous joy and good fortune from such a horrific event.  This simple shift in thinking explains (and better) that there is no need to feel guilty.  As a gift from Jennifer, it feels like she is reaching out to take care of me and make sure I can navigate life fully.  A life altering gift that can never be repaid.

Backstory – Reason for the Trip

My daughter has turned 16, driver’s license time, and purchasing a car.  She knows that I used to race (mostly autocross) and tend towards the extreme speed side of the equation on the highways.  It has her interest piqued.  She desires to know how to drive, yes, but even more the speed bug is surfacing.  She wants to race, or at least autocross.  She is excited at the notion of rebuilding my race car and get it back on the track.  I think that she envisions herself in that driver’s seat too, despite having purchased a sports car herself.  She has just the right amount of crazy in her personality to get to the razor’s edge.  I have noticed early enough to bang into her head the mantra that speed, racing, ‘craziness’ in a car is fine in CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENTS…the track, with safety equipment, like minded drivers that are more predictable (less likely to brake check you out of mindless spite, etc.), room for mistakes, and have limited participants.  I have started looking for drivers’ events to get her experience and training in car control at the extreme limits.  Typically focused towards younger drivers and teaching what messing up feels like but in an environment that allows those mistakes to happen and what to do to correct the situations.  I have explained these events as prerequisite courses to the actual autocross classes that will follow.

Setting Up the Meeting

A spot in one of these prerequisite classes opens up in Kansas City.  We will be going right past Topeka, so why not stop for a quick grave site visit?  I text Jen’s sister, letting her know that we will be stopping by, did she want to meet up for a quick visit?  She seems enthusiastic about the opportunity.  She invites her Mom!  So nervous!

Not afraid, just nervous.  My mind has been hard wired (and maybe incorrectly) for so long to 'Do No Harm' in regards to this family (from a position of respect and reverence), and if I even thought something could cause pain then don't do it, combined with my embarrassment of handling it incorrectly in just about every way.  I admit, it is strange that someone connected to Jen, but basically unknown to the family, would come out of the shadows so many years later.  Jennifer’s sister has been very welcoming in our conversations over the past couple years, but my interactions with the rest of the family have still been very closed off.  Scared and embarrassed by the way I handled it, and for so long.  Meeting ‘Mom’ just feels like I am going to have to deal with, explain, all of the mistakes and the ways I reacted.  My actions (or inactions, as it were) were made with intentions of good or at least to minimize emotional hurt.  It is just that they were not necessarily the right actions, very isolating, and missed the target of healing.

So, meeting the family tomorrow…all evidence from previous conversations suggest that this will be a wonderful adventure.  Perhaps even healing.  So why am I so nervous?  Am I (purposefully) picking at the scab of a wound that just will not heal?  Sometimes I think that the concept of phantom limb pain explains it well.  It hurts, but I don't want to take pills to make the pain to away.  The limb is gone, but there is such a desire for it to be present that even a sensation of pain where the missing limb is supposed to be is welcomed, wanted.  Tomorrow will tell.

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Sucked Back Into My Grief Vortex

My grief journey seemed to be stabilizing…I literally went through all the ‘normal’ steps, processes, and feelings again, 30 years after the event, as though I was going through it the first time.  I have mentioned how I stuffed it down, was not able (or willing) to process or adequately deal with it in real time.  Then 30 years go by, a couple of dreams bring the wound to the forefront, and BAM! I am in the thick of it.  In addition to ‘normal’ grieving moments, I also engaged two counselors to help get me through the pain.  One was a more traditional talk-therapy style and the other utilized a more deliberate methodology of EMDR (which is firmly rooted in the PTSD recovery space).  The EMDR seemed better of the two.  As I said, I went through steps and stages.  Things settled down.  Time elapsed between thoughts of Jen, increasing from minutes to hours to days.  I felt that I was recovering.  Not so much a problem solved, but was accepting that the world was different now and that was the world that I live in.  A little over a year has transpired.

Then the dreams began anew…A couple weeks ago, I am dreaming that Tom (one of my best friends), my Dad, and I, are at a Kansas City Royals game.  It is a very different stadium layout than the actual Kaufmann stadium, and very cool.  We have access to some ‘VIP’ areas for some reason and are popping all around the ball park during the game.  Interestingly, the Royals were losing to the Mets 15-8 at the middle of the ninth inning, but, for some reason, elected not to play the last half inning.  It was a back and forth affair in the early innings, but it just ended.  Somewhat stunned, we left the ball park and were heading into the parking garage, which was a deep cylindrical shaped parking structure that was not well laid out for a mass of people leaving at once.  As we head into the garage to get to our car, I hear a gal bitching in the passenger seat of a car that we are walking by, “Christ, it takes three hours to get out of a parking lot from a game that only lasts two and a half hours.”  I said something snarky out loud, not to her necessarily, but just out loud.  The girl addresses me by name and says, “Just you wait until you have to go through this mess!”  I look over at the car these girls were in and, while not necessarily remembering it, it was familiar.  I looked at the license plate and it too was familiar.  The traffic eases and the car starts to drive off and I recognize the back of Jen’s head, her hair, she’s driving!  I start running after the car and actually catch up to it about half a block down the road.  They invite me to get in for a ride home, which I was in the process of accepting when I woke up.

Some interesting takeaways from the dream were that I never actually saw Jen’s face, but knew it was her.  The car and license plate were recognized as hers, but were not like her real life versions.  I have no idea who was actually in the passenger seat.  And most surprising for me, there was not this overpowering sense of sadness, loss.  I can remember puzzlement, and some desperation in catching up to her, wanting to tell her something so badly.  But not grief, as it were.

So, I let it simmer a while.  Not sure what to do with it.  It has been a little while since I had thought of her consciously, a few days at least.  No more frequently than the couple months proceeding the dream.  So why (or how) does she appear, and in a cameo role?  Like I said, it was more puzzling than anything.  Talking through it with a friend, the possibility was offered that my mind was starting to set her free.  That I was okay with (or least accepting of) reality.  My first thought was maybe true.  However, something with that explanation didn’t seem to explain my feelings either.  I was very determined to catch up to the car.  Something not complete…

A few days after this, another dream occurs.  This time Jen is not in it, but is still a central character.  A father figure of Jen’s comes over to my house.  For some reason, I know it is not her father, but filling the role of a father nonetheless (later noodling in my head produces the possibility of it being God).  He is talking about how good Jen is, how it is going to take a person of significant moral character and purity to interact with her, in any way.  I find myself trying to give examples of how I am a quality person, composed of goodness (or at least good actions and motives).  It is a very bizarre verbal dance where neither of us are saying exactly what we are explicitly talking about, just dancing around each others’ labyrinth of language.  Later there is a large group of us going out to an amusement park.  There are many of my own friends and family as well as Jennifer’s friends and family.  I locate a (somewhat) distant cousin of hers.  Not sure how I know this information, but I stop him as we are entering the entrance gates.  I ask him to relay a message to Jen for me.  He declines.  I beg!  Please, I need to speak to her!  He is waffling.  He is not sure if this is something that he should be involved with.  I get the sense that he believes that the Father-Figure would not be pleased.  At least ask her to call me!  Please?!  I get a begrudging okay, the kind that you agree to when you just want someone to leave you alone, but may not be all that willing to follow through with.  I wake up.

What the hell?!?!  What am I so convinced that I need to talk to her about?  It is not a consciously known question or conversation.  I was supposed to be on the healing side of this event.

I start to look up some webpages on contacting deceased people, through dreams, through spirit guides, through any means.  I know that I want to talk to her…Why is a bit more nebulous.  I read through many webpages on how to connect, cross-over, invoke the spirits of loved ones.  I figure I will give it a try.  One of the recurring themes seems similar to meditation, right before going to sleep.  Get comfortable and relaxed.  Visualize the person that you want to contact.  Invite them to come to you in the dream.  Not a summoning, by any means, but a call out to them saying that you wish to talk, to see them, that it will be welcomed and wanted.  So, I start this process…Jen, please come into my dreams tonight.  I really want to talk to you.

AARGHHH!  I awake the next morning, frustrated!  I spent what felt like two to three hours on a park bench, talking to Jennifer Aniston.  While normally this might not be an unwelcomed task, it missed the mark this go around.  It felt like Jen was giggling in the background too.  (Jennifer Aniston is quite chatty if you ever run into her in your dreams.)  Very funny, Ha Ha Ha.

The next day, I spend more time reading pages on how to connect with the spirit world.  More of the same directions, very mediation-like.  Run across one medium that suggested a “Fake-It-Til-You-Make-It” approach is a viable option too.  Great.  So not only am I going batshit crazy, I plan on faking batshit crazy until I can achieve batshit crazy.  Wonderful.  But I still try.

The next night arrives.  I get comfortable in bed.  Try to slow my body processes down.  Ask Jen (Anderson specifically) to join me.  I want to talk to her.  I lay there, still, eyes closed.  I visualize myself leaving my body, floating near the ceiling looking down at myself.  I takes a while to pull off, but I get there.  Then slowly, rising through the roof, outside the house, floating upwards while watching downward, concentrating on the home below getting smaller and smaller.  I reach a point that I would describe as low-Earth orbit.  I see the land below, I am just floating there.  I have expended considerable energy getting here.  Is it just wishful thinking?  Am I just imagining?  Then slowly, I turn.  Not upwards, and in no direction that I can explain.  I am no longer in control, just a passenger.  The change of direction feels like a Rubix cube being turned to solve.  The Earth is not ‘below’ me any longer, but I sense that I am further away from it in some regard.  I get the sense that I am speeding up, but have no concept of where I am, or where I am going.  The next thing that I notice is that I am at a building site, not of a building, per se, but more like the edge of a city that is completely under construction.  Not sure how I transitioned from floating in ‘space’ to this place, with a light brown dirt ground.  I see construction activities all around, in various phases of completeness.  Most noticeable, as I am on the outskirts of this ‘city’, is the concrete footers that have been poured, for what I assume to be meant to be a city wall. There are lots of people buzzing about, doing their work.  I ask, where am I.  The question is met with smiles, sincere, but not exactly an answer.  Like I should know, bless my heart.  While entry into the ‘city’ is not specifically prevented by the construction, the footer tops are barely above ground, I look for a more defined entrance.  As I walk through the gates I ask again, what is going on?  Someone answers that this is heaven.  That it is being built.  As souls arrive, they represent another stone towards the completion of the majestic city.  (As a side note, considering the number of people that have passed in human history and the completion level of the city’s construction, it will be quite a while before Armageddon arrives…assuming the city needs to be complete as the kick off point for the End of Days.)  I continue to walk through the low, partially formed gates, down this entrance avenue.  More people buzzing about, tending to their tasks.  I look forward down the road, and there is Jen standing there with a startled look on her face.  She smiles and starts towards me, calling my name.  The tone sounds a little surprised, but more so excited and glad to see me.  She reaches out and grabs my hand, as if to drag me around and show me the sites.  As her hand grasps mine, I feel an immense, incredible energy.  Not like lightning or electricity, not sharp or buzzing, but warm, inviting, enveloping…pure.  It looked like a small, slow-motion explosion where she grabbed my hand, but with no harmful explosion-like effects.  It startles me!  I was not expecting this feeling, and I draw back, unsure if this energy will harm or consume me.  Very surprised.  The surprised feeling is so great that it shocks me back to being awake.  SHIT!  Gone…

So, I lie here with so many more questions.  Did I make all of this up?  Was my mind just exploring a fantasy, vividly?  Did I want this so much that I made it occur?  Supplemented with too many accounts from others that I have read about.  Did these stories blend together to create the vision that I just witnessed/conjured?  I am not aware of, and do not think that, I was exposed to any notions of heaven being under construction prior to this.  No specific recollection of explosions when you touch a spirit.  And the transition from floating in near-space to what followed was like nothing that I can remember in stories of heavenly journeys.  (It was super cool nonetheless.  The only thing that I can guess towards would be the visualization of interacting with a fourth-dimension.  How my mind could not process the experience in a way that made sense, but the extra-dimensional movement was still occurring.)

On the flip side of the coin, while suspending all that I know to be real and true…What if the experience was real?  What if the ability to separate the conscious from the physical body could (did) occur?  Did I really get to travel via an additional dimension to Heaven?  Did I really encounter Jen?  Did I freak her out, or disappoint her, by exiting so abruptly?  Does she think that I fear her, or heaven, or the journey?  Was I even ‘allowed’ to make this type of journey?  Am I in trouble for it?  Is she?  Will this make further contact harder?

And stepping back, looking at the grander scheme of things, what does this do for my mental health or grief journey?  I find myself writing this down, in hopes of getting it out off my head for one, but more so because I don’t feel that I can discuss it with anyone.  Friends that know what I have been going through in the past year are wonderfully accepting, but the experience has been progressive towards healing and acceptance.  Does their patience have a limit, and have I officially crossed it by regressing into the grief cycle again?  Bringing in new folks to hear of the story feels laborious, plus all the standard hurdles of this happened 30+ years ago.  Sheesh, Get over it!  At what point does everyone say enough is enough?  When does Tammy’s tolerance cease???  It feels very isolating.  I want to tell the story!  (Or is it more correct to say that I want a story that can be told?)  There are some very cool experiences within.  But is it all just fiction…with a plotline of grief and not being able to overcome it?  Why am I so axle-wrapped on this???  I know that the accident happened.  I know that cannot change.  I have a good life, why do I want to fuck it up with this frivolous fantasy?  Why can’t I let it go?  Hell, I don’t even know what it is that I want to talk to Jen about.  And would it even change anything?  Why does she keep reappearing in my dreams?  Why will my mind not just put it to rest and get on with existing???  I feel stuck…stupid…crazy…and in limbo.  If I am going to go insane, then let’s just do it!  Why the constant picking at the scab?  Just go batty and enjoy craziness!  Or fucking heal and get on with it…Enjoy the wonderful life that I find myself blessed with!  Why must I subject myself to torture…repeatedly…willingly?

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