Dreams and Faith

I dreamt of Carri last night.
This isn't an unusual occurrence.  It's happened a lot in the almost two years since she passed away. Usually, though, I spend the dreams running around chasing after a cure for her cancer that some unheard of doctor in a top-secret location has in his possession. Always, she is there sitting in a chair or lying in a bed ...waiting for her cure, counting on me to keep my word that I won't let her down...that no matter what, I won't let her die.
Throughout those dreams I am always aware that time is running out, that I really should just get back to her bedside and talk to her, tell her "I love you" as many times as I can get the words out but I just can't make myself stop looking for that cure...because, even in my dreams, I know that saying goodbye is impossible and unbearable and I'm just not strong enough.
But last night's dream was different and I'd like to share it with you.
First, though, I need to share with you the prayer of thanks I sent to God yesterday morning. A prayer that literally had me on my knees, eyes clenched shut and hands grasping each other so tightly I'm sure my knuckles were white.
For those of you who were friends of Carri's and welcomed me into your lives because you loved her and trusted her judgement and her capacity to love so many who are so different in many ways, I hope you'll continue reading without pre-judging that this is a "Holy Roller" (as my grandmother used to call Church folks) trying to convert non-believers kind of article.
I think I've mentioned before that when Carri and I met at the age of 13 she was living with her religious Grammie and her Grampy (I don't know how religious he was at the time, Grammie did most of the talking. :) )  The first words Carri and I ever exchanged on our first day of high school waiting for First Period bell went like this:
"Hi, I'm Tanya. (I hold up the horoscope section of the newspaper) I'm a Scorpio. What's your sign? I'll read you your horoscope."
"Hi, I'm Carri. Do NOT read my horoscope. My grandmother says horoscopes are evil. Only God knows the future."
My jaw dropped. I had thought it was a fun way to get a conversation started with the quiet girl and I had just gotten rebuked. She saw the look on my face though and immediately said, "I don't think they're evil, I'd just rather not take a chance in case Grammie's right."
A few weeks later, she invited me to spend the night at her house. Here is how my first exchange went with Grammie:
"Hi, Mrs...?"
"You can call me Grammie, dear." (What a sweet old lady, this was going to be great!)
"Hi, Grammie. I'm Tanya. Thanks so much for letting me come over."
"You're welcome, dear. Come into the living room so we can get to know each other better."
(Follow her to the living room)
"Now, tell me Tanya. Have you been Saved?"
Um, Saved? What was she talking about?
"Have you accepted the Lord as your Savior?"
"I watch the Jim and Tammy Faye Baker PTL show every morning before school while I'm getting dressed. Does that count?"
"If you want to be friends with Carri, you must accept Jesus Christ."
I looked over at Carri standing sheepishly in the doorway of the living room. Behind her grandmother's head she nodded a silent "just do it". After all, we had things to do like listening to music and talking about cute boys.
Grammie said a short prayer while I was on my knees and asked me again "Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?"
"Yes, I do."
With a smile and a big hug she sent us off to Carri's room.
Once there, I asked Carri if I had really just been Saved. She asked me if I felt any different or if I'd seen anything during the prayer. I had to admit that no, I hadn't. That's when she told me about her experience. It would be many years later before I would understand and relate to what she told me next.
She said that when she was Saved, as a prayer was being spoken over her, she saw a flame, a bright, steady flame behind her closed eyes and that the flame grew taller, brighter and warmer as it worked it's way across the darkness of her eyes and into her heart. She said she knew that it was the Holy Spirit and that it now lived in her heart.
We go through so many changes as we get older and grow. Some folks start out as Atheists, Agnostics, Baptists, Catholics, Buddhists, etc and convert to other denominations or religions or stop believing alltogether.
I'm telling you this because, as most of you know, when Carri died she was a Quaker. I didn't understand a lot about Quakers and I only went to one of their silent meetings with her but the people I met there were amazing and loving and they took care of Carri all through her battle with breast cancer and they prayed for her continuously. Carri was also cared for by a beautiful Sikh woman who quietly prayed for her healing as well. The Priest (I'm not sure if he was Catholic- he was definitely Irish, such a lovely accent he had) who married Carri to her husband also said many prayers for her and was there in her final days to counsel her and comfort her. A young Native American woman who Carri met only briefly one spring day also chanted to her Spirits a prayer of healing. Her pagan friends offered up their prayers as well.
When all of our prayers still didn't lead to the answer we had all fervently hoped for I almost gave up on God. I got mad. Madder than I've ever been. I went into self-destruct mode and drank steadily every night for months. Did lots of Drunk Facebooking (BAD BAD BAD IDEA) The thought that I'd never see her again was beyond unbearable. If I hadn't had my children and husband to need me so desperately, I think I would've given up alltogether and said, "What matters now? What's the point? The only person I could talk to about everything is gone. The only person I ever needed in my life to keep me balanced and tell me when I was crazy was gone. The only person I could count on through thick and thin, fights and victories was gone." She was my Sister. My compass. The only person who never abandoned me.
I promised I'd tell you about the dream last night and I swear, I'm getting there. There's just a little more you need to hear. (It's been months since I wrote on this blog so I'm having to fill you in on all the changes to get to the point-which, if you're still reading, you're probably wondering if there really is one.)
I got a call from Tommy's kindergarten teacher four months after Carri died inviting us to Vacation Bible School. She's not the kind of person I can easily say no to. Why not? So I took him for a week and started meeting the folks at the church.
Then we started going on Sundays. Then on Wednesday nights for the youth activities so the kids would all have someplace new and fun and safe to go.
I was still mad at God. Oh, so mad!
Turns out, to be mad at someone or something, it has to EXIST, at least in your own realm. So, there it was, I was mad at God and God exists. What the heck was I supposed to do with this now? Alright, God, I thought, fine, you're real. You're up there. You're all powerful. And you let her die...
Now, I want some answers!
I have gotten a lot of answers. Not all of them are to my human heart's liking. I still think I could've learned some of these lessons without losing her but I think the greatest reward I've gotten so far is the Peace that passes all understanding because at last, I'm not filled with rage and hate anymore. I realize now that, for me, Carri was like God. I counted on her to help me with every decision I made. I consulted her about how to be a better mom, wife, friend, cook (yes, the dear woman talked me through making gravy on the phone). I didn't take many steps in my life without getting her opinion. When my marriage hit rough spots, it was her I went to for advice on how to save it. There was nothing on this earth I wouldn't have done for her. I would've laid down my life for her in a heartbeat. I would've laid in a box with four thousand cockroaches and spiders crawling all over me if it would have saved her life. I would have sacrificed everything because I have never loved anyone (other than my children and their father) as completely as I loved her.  In other word, everything God would want us to do for him, I was willing to do for her.
Last year, (I suppose a really good Christian would remember the exact day and month year) during a worship service I finally got to experience my own Flame experience. Without knowing it was about to happen, I set my hymnal down and walked...my legs filled with a power that didn't come from me, towards the minister. My eyes were wide open and I didn't see a flame moving into my heart but I felt as if I were weightless and in my heart there was a warmth and I knew that if I turned around, that in the balcony above and behind me I would see the Holy Spirit swooshing down to penetrate my finally, prepared and opened heart to receive Him. And unlike in the living room of Carri's grandmother, this time I DID feel different and I know what I saw with my heart. And I know He'll never let me go. The same way I know, He's never let Carri go. 
I'm going to see her again, one day, and that fills me with such joy and anticipation.
This is the prayer of thanks I prayed yesterday:
"Dear Lord, I thank you for every day of my friendship with my sweet sister Carri. I thank you for letting her touch so many lives and for being the amazing person you perfected her to be. I miss her so much still but I thank you for every last second we were blessed with. I pray that you will bless every person, every child on this earth with the same kind of friend, the same pure loving friendship. The world will be a better place because of it."
I dreamt of Carri last night.
I wasn't running around looking for anything. She was right there. We were sitting at a table and we were talking. (I'm crying as I type this.) We were talking about all the things we didn't get a chance to say before she died. We were talking about everything that has happened since she died. She didn't say a lot with her words, although the sound of her voice was music to these ears who haven't heard it in so long, and I usually was the one who did the most talking. (That's not hard to believe, is it?) Mostly, she sat there looking at me with a smile on her face and held both my hands in hers. And when I begged her to forgive me for not being there the night she died she said "thank you for being here while I was alive." Now, some folks might say that dream was just my subconscious way of forgiving myself for not being there but if you knew Carri you'd know that's exactly what she would say to her wacky yet emotional friend. I believe, after my prayer to God yesterday, that He blessed me with one more visit with Carri. One last visit where I wouldn't have to wait till I'm in Heaven to hear her voice, feel her hug, and see her smile. I love you, Carri.
Dear God, thank you for loving me!
Tanya

A Little Further Down the Path Of Healing

I've often been told (and I mean, OFTEN) that I tend to overanalyze things especially when it comes to another person's feelings. In the fear of causing anyone any kind of distress or other negative emotion I often tie myself up into knots with worry.
For a while, after Carri died, I didn't think I was supposed to post on this blog because it was something I built for her to display her thoughts and her beautiful writings. I considered my writings kind of like filler. Her writing was the meat of what this blog was supposed to be. When she got sicker, I kept writing because she asked me to. But everything I wrote, I passed by her first for her approval (since most of what I wrote was about my perspective on our friendship.)
When I finally decided to write here again, it was a way to hold onto that friendship-onto her.
 Living three thousand miles away from her husband and sons and friends-living a thousand miles away from her grandparents and other friends who grew up with her-I felt very isolated and alone.
So many of those folks reached out to me, though, sharing their grief, their stories, their feelings and I will be forever thankful for that. They inspired me to write more.
Today, I made a change to the blog. And here's where Old Man Worry started twisting me up in those knots of worry.
I changed the Authorship from Carri and Tanya to just my name. Some would call this a tiny change. For me, it's a BIG step in my journey of healing and feeling whole again. Without Carri here to run my writings and ideas by, it doesn't feel right to sign her name to things that she might not have agreed with, liked, or wanted her name attached to.
I thought about just starting a new blog but this one was built with so much affection, hope for healing, hope for the future  and I feel so connected to her here that I just can't say good-bye to it.
I hope those of you who loved her will understand.
I also hope that all of you have found peace and healing or are well on your way to finding that. Let me know what you think because I really do care about your feelings...more than you'll probably ever know.
Love, Tanya

The Alcohol-Free "Drunken" Phone Call

Carri and I used to love our drunken" phone calls. Didn't mean we had to actually be inebriated.  Just meant that we had shed all inhibitions and opened ourselves up to whatever was going on in the moment. S

House Of Dreams

980 square feet.  3 bedrooms. 1 and 1/4 bathrooms.  Drafty old windows. Floors that slope so much you'd better hope your peas don't miss your mouth.  Leaky pipes. Mildew in the popcorn ceilings. Only half the outlets work. Mosquitos so thick in the summertime we should probably get a malaria vaccination.
This is my House of Dreams?
We moved in ten years ago.  A three year starter home, we told ourselves. So, we painted.  We wallpapered.  We ripped up carpets and laid down floors.  We enthusiastically replaced appliances and installed new countertops.  We planted flower bulbs in the spring and mowed the lawn gleefully with the shiny red lawn tractor. We transplanted rosebushes and turned ourselves into bright red lobsters.  We sweated. We stayed up late at night and went to work at our dayjobs worn out but happy with the progress that would someday soon lead us to being able to buy the perfect home.
No matter how much work we did it never seemed to be finished.  Some new problem aqlways popped up. One thing would get fixed and something else would break.
This is our House of Dreams?
When the babies started coming (yes, somewhere in the middle of the break-downs and fix-ups we somehow managed to find time to make babies) the house had to take a backseat. There, it has pretty much stayed for the last seven years.  These days the only things that get fixed are the things that are essential-water, refrigeration, air-conditioning, heat,  cooktop. My kitchen cabinets still have no doors hanging on them (they're painted but I can't figure out how to attach the fancy-schmancy hardware I talked my husband into buying almost two years ago.) The dishwasher's been kaput for two months now. The paint on the living room walls is covered in permanent marker because SOMEONE (yours truly) left her Sharpie on the desk when she went to answer the phone a year ago. The humidity in the bathroom has caused the wallpaper to peel and the paint to crack. The water damage a couple years ago meant we had to replace the whole floor, new joists and everything...everything, that is, except flooring. No tile, no laminate, no anything but the wood that separates us from the earthen ground about three feet down. (We did that repair about a year ago, too, but with all the splashing the kids do the floor is already in need of re-replacing. I'm thinking I might actually pick up the tile this time.)
This is my House of Dreams?
Yes, actually, it is.
This is where my married life began. All those projects- my new husband and I worked together, side by side beaming and dreaming.  It was us carving out our own little corner of the world.
This is where my children were conceived...where they came home from the hospital to. This is the only home they have ever known and there's a great sense of stability and security that comes from having had only one Home.
This is where the sound of laughter has outlasted any temper-tantrums, where stories have been read, pictures drawn, where the charming pitter-patter of tiny feet has slowly evolved into the stampede of a herd of elephants on a Saturday morning race down our one tiny hallway.
This Is my House of Dreams.
I still dream about a big house with at least two full bathrooms where no one will walk in on me to ask me where their shoes are.  I still dream of lots of insulated windows where the sunlight shines into every room. I still dream of having my own floor to ceiling library room with a fireplace and giant window seat.  But more than all those things, I dream of many rooms that are filled with visiting grandchildren, children and friends. I dream of waking up on a Sunday before church to cook a breakfast for twenty and hearing my son say the Blessing where he impishly still says, as he did as a child, "And God Bless The Cook!"
But all that can happen in this house too. Some might have to eat their Sunday breakfast standing up. We might have to put wall to wall air mattresses down for all our visitors. Some might have to sleep feet-to-face. We'll probably have to draw straws for the bathroom.
No matter the size and specs of it, as long as it is full of loved ones, it will be our House of Dreams. Where dreams have been born, where dreams have grown, where dreams have come true....

No title today. No real story. Just feeling sad. It was a year ago today that I got my last phone call from Carri. For some reason, I never heard my cell phone ring so she left me a message on my voicemail. I've dreaded the one year anniversary of her death coming up in a few weeks but today I'm panicking that after a year my cell phone will drop the last recording I have of her beautiful voice.  Am I morbid for wanting to keep it forever?
The depression has hit me hard the last couple of weeks and I have just wanted to run and curl up in a ball somewhere quiet.
I need quiet...because inside my head I hear my own voice screaming "It's just not fair!!! Where are you?! COME BACK!!! I don't want to play this Acceptance game anymore! I'm not like you. I'm no good at letting go. I don't do yoga. I've never found my inner peace. Zen is something I've only read about. I don't know how to do THIS! Please come back...please. It's the only way the pain can stop."
Please, God, send her back or at least turn back time. Just one more minute, one more phone call, please.

A Fresh Start

I don’t know if I can write about Carri anymore. (Goodness, it hurts to even write that statement.)The last few days I keep getting this feeling that she doesn’t want me to focus on our past anymore. She never did like being the center of attention.

 I think she’s been ready a lot longer than I have for me to find my voice and live a life apart from hers.

So, Carri, I shall let you have your way. I’m going to try to be my authentic self and stop using you as a shield behind which I hide my unexciting life and I’m going to find that excitement you always seemed to carry with you and sprinkle a bit of it upon myself.

 And how about this? (You’re really gonna like this part, Carri) I’m going to write about it. All the crazy ideas, the weird dreams, the family melodrama, the soap opera that my life sometimes morphs into, all the things I used to share with you to entertain you…I’m not going to be keeping them to myself anymore like I have for the last 11 months.

I wonder how they’ll like me after they really get to know me the way you did?

Like, how will your more sophisticated friends feel when I tell them I’ve always been a little bit on the psychic side and am obsessed with dream interpretation?

How will the hardworking Moms out there feel when I admit that I feel no shame in enjoying (what’s left of) a good soap opera and that your wish for me was that I go out to New York or Hollywood to write for one of them?

Will anyone think I’m weak or cowardly because I haven’t been able to watch an episode of Desperate Housewives because it’s the final season and I just can’t bear to say goodbye to one more thing you and I shared?

Ohhhh, how about my addiction to four horoscopes a day before I leave the house?

And how I’ve always felt blessed to be a Scorpio cause I think that’s the best sign of the zodiac?

How I can’t carry a tune in a bucket but still dance around my kitchen belting out “It’s Raining Men” as if I’m on a Broadway stage?

That my kids are my whole world but this “non-stop talking” phase that my eldest daughter is going through is enough to make me double “ Van Gogh” myself (He’s the one who cut off his own ear, right?)

Will they still like me without you to put a good word in for me, Carri?

Will the Vegans dump ketchup on my doorstep when they find out I enjoy Chicken Fried Steak?

Will the intellects heckle me when they find out that this Blonde actually laughs at Dumb Blonde Jokes?

What will the Conservatives say when they discover that I’m not embarrassed to talk about the functions of the human body (I’ve got kids, for Pete’s sake) or that I think a good Sex Life is one of the keys to life’s greatest happiness. (Okay, I’ve got to admit- I’ve become somewhat  Conservative in the last decade  and can’t believe I just typed the “S” Word, myself!)

Will they think I’m off my rocker when I write how much certain colors make me feel almost giddy? (My two personal favorites are Thousand Flushes Blue and Tropical Punch Kool-Aid, not together of course)

Oh, Carri, I’m beginning to worry that maybe you truly were the only one who could know all this stuff and not have me carted to the Loony Bin.

And how bout all those people who say they never dream at night? They’re going to think I’m making everything up because I’ve never forgotten a dream in all the years I’ve been having them every night. How shocking will it be when I relate the craziness and zaniness of my subconscience?

But something is telling me you want me to do this and something in me says that I need to do this if only to keep it from staying bottled up inside. As my gassy (but classy) hubby always says “There’s more room on the outside than the inside.”

This is gonna be fun….

Lesson of a Lifetime

I feel this change happening in my heart that is truly indefinable but for some reason this logical head of mine really feels the compulsion to define it.  I haven’t been the same since Carri died. What am I saying? I haven’t been the same since I’ve known her. Everything about our friendship and all our conversations whether verbal or written have transformed the person I used to be.  Now, I’m finding the exact opposite is true as well…the lack of her presence, the lack of conversation is also transforming the person I am becoming.  How is it this one person had the power to change me and my life?  I think the answer is as simple as it is complex.  LOVE.

She is the first person outside my own family that I ever loved. She is the first person outside my own family to ever love me.  It is taken for granted that our family has to love us.  For everyone else, love is an optional thing and often transient. So, it took a long time for me to trust that her love was real, that we really were kindred spirits or soul sisters. In that time we both made mistakes and hurt each other’s feelings as we tested the strength of our bond.

She taught me to open my eyes to realities I had often ignored and showed me how to open myself up to the Universe and understand that I was both a tiny part of it and at the same time I was a significant piece of it.

Without her here to talk to I thought I was losing my mind.  At first, I pretended to myself that she was just too busy to call. That delusion only got me through a couple of weeks. As the months dragged on I found myself spending my days pacing from room to room looking for something I couldn’t name but which was holding me hostage feeling the ever present squeezing of the air from my lungs as I fought against the acceptance of this new life without my best friend, my confidante, the only person who knew my stories and loved me anyway. 20 years of friendship just…over. As difficult as that was, it was the fact that 33 short years of her life were over, that she simply was no more, that I found myself struggling with bitterness about. 

There was a blackness, a hatred, a blame-game trying to point the finger at any one person or thing that could have let this happen.  It started to consume me as I researched her doctors online and stalked the so-called “Healers” websites looking for anything malicious or malevolent hidden in their herbal supplements or strange machines. I scoured the complaints listed with the Better Business Bureau and checked Blogs that mentioned any of the same people or places she had contact with during her two year battle.  I just knew that if I could figure out who was responsible for this I would feel better.

Because I HAD to start feeling better.  I knew this couldn’t last forever and I was trying to accelerate the process (I thought).

It didn’t work.  It didn’t help. In fact, it was made worse by the single-minded focus I was holding onto.  So, I stopped. Stopped looking, stopped blaming.  Then something wonderful happened.  I started to run…something that Carri had always loved doing and something I had long despised. I was always last picked in gym class. I hated the burning of my lungs and the gasping for breath that always started after just a few minutes exertion.  But I had already been feeling that way for months as a sat in front of the computer, inwardly running from the pain of losing her, so I didn’t think it could get any worse.  I hopped on the treadmill and started to walk. Within a few minutes, instead of the usual panting and boredom a surge of energy came through me and I took off running! I could hear her in my head clapping and cheering me on and telling me to run through the pain.  For the first time in months, I could finally hear her voice and feel her presence.  I ran a mile that day, something I’d never done in my life without stopping to walk.

In life, Carri had always pushed  me to go out of my comfort zone and try new things.  I was a chronic worrier and my fears often left me living vicariously through her as she attempted challenge after new challenge.  She couldn’t understand why I was afraid to drive my car down roads I’d never travelled before or why I sometimes needed medication for the depression I’d battled since I was 19.  She said I held onto my worries and fears like they were beloved Pets that were crowding me out of my own life.

After I started running, the weight started to fall off and it wasn’t just the excess pounds my body had been carting around, it was the weight of my fears.  I found myself doing new things without apprehension and without thinking and planning.  I started exploring my community and talking to new people. I joined a church.  Spirituality was very important to Carri and even though she and I differed vastly in our beliefs I know she would be proud of me.  I started looking for the passion I used to have for writing accepting that I will never write the Great American Novel but also believing, for the first time, that what I have to say is important enough to be heard and this is the forum God has made abundantly clear to me that I am to use.

I still would rather have her here than not.  I know these changes I’ve made would have happened with her here  but they would have happened at a much slower pace.  It’s a journey I wish we could have taken together. I’m still amazed at how much I’m learning from the lessons she tried to teach me before she left this earth and the lessons only her death could have taught me. 

I am alive.

It’s time to start living.

Thank you my friend.