Written on October 29, 2020

She came to me in a dream. Her beautiful tanned fit body and her thick bleached blond hair, turning heads as she approached me by the pool in a tropical paradise. In a sexy bikini she is vibrant and alive. Her aura precedes her. That unexplained quality that attracts people to her. Just moments after meeting, you are her best friend. I love that about her.

I watched as she walked along the pools edge toward me. She is confident and poised with a big slice of bad ass. I love that about her too. She is the epitome of a mama bear who lives for her children, but she is also restless and longs for something that she will not find in this lifetime.

Then it happened.

She reached out her hand to me and we touched. Really touched. Skin to skin. The last time I felt her touch was 4 years ago.

I awaken in that morning fog between dreams and reality. Another day. Did I sleep well? Did I get enough?

I notice a tingling in my right hand and then I remember the touch. My dream comes flooding back to me in perfect clarity. I feel desperate to go back to sleep. To hold her in my arms, to feel her heart against mine. It brings tears to my eyes and, surprisingly, a smile to my face. I am grateful for this moment.

Today is her death day. Four years ago. My first born. My beautiful Jaime, just 39 years old, went to be with her heavenly father.

The thought of her death still rattles in my mind and sends me into a momentary confusion. How can she be gone? It can’t be true, it makes no sense. So I choose not to think of her every moment of every day, for if I did I would surely go mad and she sure as hell wouldn’t want that.

I used to question the existence of eternal life. Oh how her death changed that! I have no doubt that I WILL be with Jaime again one day. Me and the rest of the magnificent tribe of souls that shared her love that connects us all.

And she is perfectly complete.

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