Today, Jonah would be 21 months old. No one remembers the dates as much as Jason and I. As much as the two people that would give their own life to have Jonah here.
Do I wonder what he’d be doing? No.
Several months ago, maybe almost a year ago, he came to me in a dream. He was grown. A man. He only smiled and came close to me. He whispered, “I am the man I was always meant to be.” I saw Jonah’s smile. I saw his deep brown eyes. I felt a glow around him. A warmth, as if he was hugging me without even touching me. He was happy. He was beautiful. He was whole and pain-free.
I don’t know what it meant. I’m not going to try a decipher it. A long time ago, I quit trying to figure out why Jonah passed so early in his life. I can’t explain why I did that but I did. I know I will see Jonah again someday. I may or may not get the answers. It won’t matter at that point.
Right after Jonah passed, he came to me in a dream but he was Elijah’s age. He came bouncing into my bedroom, just as his brother would. He was laughing and he opened his shirt and said, “look, mom, my heart is whole.” Pointing to a smooth chest with no scar. He bounced out of the room and he was gone.
These are the only two dreams in which Jonah has been significantly present. Where he has words to say to me. Where he is the only person in my dream. He is in many dreams but just in passing or a figure in a room. No words are said, just letting me know he’s there. In only 2 dreams, he has said words. Defined words. Words that mattered to me.
I’ve said it before - grieving for a child is awkward. 21 months later, it still remains tearfully awkward. 21 months later, Jason and I still shed a few tears each day for our son.
