69

Personally, I hate Valentine's Day. And it's not for the obvious reason. It marks the anniversary of my Papa's funeral. February, since 1996, has been a bit of a blurry disaster for me. This year, it kind of snuck up on me, actually.

Things have been crazy, crazy at work. I am juggling two little boys and Hubbie is on the road all the time for basketball. In truth, while he's always somewhere in my heart, his death hadn't really crossed my mind since February hit.

Then last night I had a long-awaited conversation with him. Please don't tell me it wasn't him because I believe he whispered in my ear last night while I was sleeping. And it's become a somewhat annual experience.

It seems like my deceased grandparents tend to show up right when I need them most.

My Gramma died when I was only 15. I was at home taking driver's ed when she lost her long, horrible battle to cancer. My entire family was in Pennsylvania. I can remember the call from my mom like it was yesterday. I was staying with her best friend. The friend later took me to see Sister Act starring Whoopi Goldberg. Bizarre. I was wracked with guilt for a long time over it. It wasn't until about a month after her death -- 4th of July weekend, that she came to me to talk. We had spent the last 4th of July of her life in Pennsylvania. This dream duplicated that holiday but it was obviously new. We sat in her kitchen and talked. And when I woke up, I felt better.

My Nana died when I was in my first year of my first job. She and I were always close. She had a soft spot for me even though she wasn't always the softest person. She didn't do well after Papa passed away and over the years following his death she deteriorated both physically and mentally. It was certainly trying on our family. However, one of my last conversations I had with her was about my now husband. She was the one who told me to go for it. And in some way because of her, she's reason I let down my guard long enough to see Husband had potential. And now we're blessed with Jack and Brennan.

So work has been hard. It's tax time, so money is a worry. And it's freezing. Life's a bit of a drag, honestly.

However, Brennan is at that fantastic stage where he's starting to babble and stare off into the distance and laugh at nothing. I like to think it's Gramma, Nana and Papa huddled over my boy cooing at him and making him happy. I know with my heart all three of them would be tripping over each other to spend time with my boys. And it makes me sad when I think about how they aren't here. So maybe that's why Papa's been on my mind.

But here's what I am trying to say -- and this is to dispute any doubts. I wasn't talking about him before I went to bed. I wasn't thinking about him, I hadn't just looked at his picture. But somewhere between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m. he decided it was time to visit his Ka-Ka-Ka Katie.

Here's what happened. My dreams are insanely clear. Hauntingly clear, actually.

I was going to my parents house for the weekend because Husband was on the road. I walked in my parents foyer to find my Papa standing there. He had on a navy golf Izod shirt, khaki pants and boat shoes. Classic. He seemed taller than I could remember but I walked into his arms and just smelled him. He had that Papa smell. If you are a family member, you know what I am talking about. I took a deep, long, breath. I buried myself in it. And then, I just started crying.

I was holding Brennan when I walked in but he had faded into the background. I immediately just wanted to sit on my Papa's lap. I wanted to sit on his lap and watch him read the paper. His passion had been passed onto me and I wanted to share it with him one more time. I just squeezed him. And I could feel his pacemaker in his chest.

Green sweater. He had a green sweater, I just remembered that. I can't describe to you the rush of relief, of pure joy I experienced. It was like his death had been a complete dream. His death was the dream, not this. And my level of excitement was unreal.

I just kept looking at his details. White soft hair, gnarled hands from arthritis, gentle eyes. Everything. He was there. I just wanted to squeeze him and squeeze him. I quickly asked him about Brennan. Did Nana know? Did she love it? The name didn't die with her Dad. He told me she did, of course she did. He told me Brennan was gorgeous. He told me he was so happy for me. He reminded me how blessed I was. He told me Joe was a good writer. All of the things I wanted to know he knew, he knew.

For some reason Jack wasn't there. And Brennan was missing ... in my mind, I thought my mom had him but she never entered the front hall. And then suddenly, just like that, I had to go. I had to pick up Jack. I have no idea where he was ... I just knew I had to pick him up. And I started to tell Papa about Jack. I told him how smart he was, how detail-oriented he was and how much he would just adore him. And he smiled at me. He knew all this.

I didn't want to go but I had to pick up Jack and I asked him if he'd be there when I came back. I begged him to stay so he could meet Jack but I knew he wouldn't be and I started to cry; and he hugged me.

And then he patted me gently in his Papa way and told me he was always with us.
And then that was it.
That's all I remember.

I woke up to hear Brennan stirring. I brought him into bed with me and I just lay there with my baby for a little while. And then in his sleep, B put his hand on my cheek.