This holiday has physically taken a toll on us. Hottie and I, since having Matthew, have a tradition of staying up late on Christmas eve to wrap ALL of the presents we’ve accumulated for the people in our lives – for the kids, for each other, for friends, and for family. We turn on, “Love Actually,” and get to work. This, of course, came after the huge dinner we hosted for his family, the one that had me up and in the kitchen at 7:00 that morning. My body was aching so badly by midnight that I had to keep sitting down to rest. We trudged on until 2:45 AM when everything was ready for big fun and surprises the next day!

Bryson woke up at 6:10 so we got only 3 hours of sleep on Christmas eve. We drove to Hottie’s folks’ for Christmas day and we were so tired coming home that Hottie almost pulled over to sleep, and the drive is only 45 minutes. Every last one of us was exhausted. We didn’t get to bed early on Christmas night, but when we did finally go to bed, we slept hard.

Bryson, God love him, was up at 6:00 and I volunteered to get him because Hottie was so sound asleep and I wasn’t waking him up. At 8:00, Hottie came down and I went back to sleep.

Something amazing happened (I need to write this out a bit so I don’t forget it).

Jenny visited me in my dream this morning. I woke up remembering everything, and quickly told Hottie through a stream of tears what had just happened, amazed by it.

We were standing together, hugging each other and crying. I knew she wasn’t alive and that it was just a brief visit from her. Her hair was longer and golden blonde like before the cancer struck (her hair was naturally that blonde) and she was full of life and color. I told her that I needed to tell her that I was sorry for our falling out right as they moved away, and she said she knew and that we were all under a lot of stress then (I was delivering Matthew in 10 days and they were moving out of their house). She also said that she appreciated all of our visits to KC after they moved because she was so worried our friendship would fade away once they moved. I told her that I knew she wasn’t physically there with me, but that I knew she could hear me, and then she said, “yes I can, and I heard everything you said to me as you sat with me after I’d gone.” And then, just like when my cat Lily visited me after she’d passed away, Jenny slowly faded out of my arms.

I woke up from her visit at 10:38. 2 weeks and 5 minutes after she passed away.

I know it was a dream, but I also know in my soul that it was more than”just a dream.”

I feel so much peace.