Bereft

My eyes are tired this morning...they want to close in the worst way possible, but of course, this will not happen until sometime tonight, when they are allowed.

My work is going slowly. I have one task today and it's not that big of one. Right now I'm stuck on fonts, but that isn't the problem -- I'm just lacking in motivation. I need someone to come along and pick me up and carry me through.

My sister recently lost a friend of hers in a car accident - he passed away at the tender age of 17. His death rocked the little church community we inhabit and she has been mourning fairly steadily since then.

Just this past week, she broke up with her boyfriend (she was the dumper and is upset and guilty and worried). These feelings of hurt have lead her to have vivid dreams, like she did when her friend passed away. A few nights ago she dreamed that it wasn't her friend that passed away, but her now ex-boyfriend. She was so upset, sobbing and dying inside, and then her friend, the one who in actuality passed away, came over to her, picked her up in his arms and cradled her, saying over and over again, "It's going to be okay." She said the peace and comfort she felt from that dream was unbelievable.

I remember having a similar dream about an ex-boyfriend. In our relationship, he was the dumper and I was the broken-hearted soul who couldn't take it gracefully (I was the person who was unable to make it through a day without crying). In my dream I was wandering around, bawling my eyes out (imagine!) and all of a sudden he was there. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. The comfort of that moment, of having contact, was unreal. It filled me with such peace and it was as if I was given the strength to heal, to move on, to find myself.

I wish that that would happen now. I'm torn inside by my husband's unemployment, by the trouble I'm experiencing at work, and I wish that someone would come up to me, wrap their arms around me and tell me, "It's going to be okay," because the peace of that moment will take me through to the other side. Will make it all better.

And until I'm on the other side, I can't tell you, void, what it is that hurts so much, because I've read here that that is a bad idea. When I officially move on, though, I will tell you that I made it, that I lived, and most importantly, that I'm smarter than the average run-down employee.

I promise. Until then, could you send someone with really strong arms?