Acceptance

There have been several "dream messages" from Ken given to me through family members. Most notably, our youngest daughter's, here's her description, written to me in an email: "I went to my house but you were there making food. It felt like your house but it was definitely mine. I was talking to you when I saw Daddy's butt as he got out of the shower. I said, "of all parts to see of Daddy, I get to see his butt!" and you laughed. After he got shorts on he walked by. I asked you if I was just seeing things and you said, "Try to talk to him" as he walked by I asked, "Hey Daddy how ya doing?" and he said, "I'm doing great. Thin, active, and I still get to be here" He walked into the bedroom and Cat was right behind him wagging her tail a whole bunch. She acted like she didn't even see me :( I saw her though. They disappeared. I cried with you for a second and then Daddy called out, "Hey Mary" and I looked up and said, "Daddy just called you" and you said, "I heard him" with a big grin. You went into the bedroom and laid your head on his belly. Then you came back into the kitchen and showed me the dish you had prepared. It was lettuce on top of a whole head of purple cabbage that was on top of a bowl of chopped vegetables. I took a bite of the cabbage and it just fell apart perfectly. You said you soaked it overnight in vegetable juice. Everything was super soft and perfect. I took a bite of the vegetables in the bowl with a big wooden spoon and accidentally ate the spoon! I apologized and figured out, oh this is a dream! I can't eat wood even if it's soaked over night. Then Daddy came back and said, "Tell your mom to separate the pictures and put the right ones into a storage container way back."
I'm so proud of her ability to achieve lucid dreams, which has been a goal of mine. Later, she told me he said "box" instead of "storage container," as that was her interpretation. I had been working on a grief box, an exercise for my bereavement support group, and the small photo album I had filled with Ken's photos didn't fit. So the message made sense to me, and I was very happy he was here and aware of what I'm doing.
Now the acceptance part. I am truly here without him. Wishing it were different is causing me pain, just as wishing my son was not schizophrenic causes pain to him and myself, because what is, is. It takes a lot of trust to believe that there are no accidents, no tragedies, just truth--truth that I signed up for and agree with. I am profoundly changed by my losses, there is no doubt about that. I seek to grow and to make almost 40 years of great love with Ken spiritually worth it. How can it not be?