Since my last blog post, we have survived the holidays, and are now fast approaching what would be Tanner’s 7th birthday. Though this time of year has become easier to navigate as time goes on, my subconscious mind is all too aware that these milestones will always serve as obstacles to overcome. In this blog post, I will share with you some of the dreams and nightmares I have had since Tanner’s passing, as every year around his birthday the dreams come back in full swing. Sometimes dreams serve as a refreshing way to see our child once more…to relive those beautiful memories…but other times it’s as if we have visited hell in our sleep. Keeping a grief dream journal is a useful way to work through the emotions that emerge when our alarms sound and pull us back to the real word.
I woke up in the middle of the night, looking around for the little boy I had just been playing basketball with. He was running up and down the court, playfully passing the ball back and forth between his sister and I before going in for the perfect layup. The ball went through the net with its signature swishing sound, and he ran up to me and wrapped his four-year old arms around my waist… “I love you Mama!” I twirled him around in the air, and we stood up to get ready for the next play….this time, he was going to try for a three pointer just like Michael Jordan! I watched as the little boy with my strawberry blonde hair turned to dribble the ball towards the hoop, the laces of his favorite black hi-tops waving behind him. He had on his green “Rondo” shirt with black basketball shorts…..so alive…so real. Bzzzzz! The buzzer went off! My alarm clocked sounded early, like a thief in the night, and brought me back to the dark reality. The last time I saw him was not on the basketball court, but wearing his favorite shirt that read “My playground is the basketball court,” lying motionless in his casket. Though, it wasn’t really him…it couldn’t have been. His face was too swollen and his hair too neat. His basketball sandals wouldn’t fit over his puffy toes, & he wasn’t jumping at the chance to see all of his friends as they walked by. No, my Tanner does not sit still this long. This wasn’t my rough and tumble little boy in front of me, and now I would spend a lifetime wondering where he had gone.
As a grieving parent, we learn to maneuver through the stages of grief as time goes on, but grief holds onto us as we latch onto the memories of our deceased child. Just when we think we have tackled those “surprise” moments, they jump out at us in mysterious new ways. “Where are you taking him?!” I screamed. Tanner was being whisked away by somebody after he had fallen and hurt his leg. Was it a doctor? Why couldn’t I get to him? Why do new doors and walls keep emerging…why is he getting further away?! I could see the look on his face…scared, hurt, alone… but with every step I took another obstacle surfaced. “I’m coming Tanner!” I could hear myself breathing more rapidly as I ran towards each door that slammed in my face..my heart beating a million times a minute. I could see the details on his clothing, small colorful dinosaurs on his white cotton pajamas as he was carried further and further away from me. The walls were made of glass, taunting me with his face as I was pushed further away. Finally, I reached him. I grabbed him and swiftly pulled him into my arms…..only to have him ripped away from me seconds later. “Tanner!!” The nightmare began over again….trying desperately to reach my little boy who so urgently needed my help. When I woke up I could feel the beads of sweat dripping down my face. It had been a while since a nightmare like this had consumed my dreams. I quietly got out of bed to get a glass of water, quickly followed by my dog Riley. We sat on the couch for a while in silence, her chocolate brown eyes looking up at me….I can see her concern. We normally aren’t up this time of night…this isn’t part of our routine. I grab my laptop and insert the DVD that was mailed to me shortly after his funeral. I watch in the dark as his vibrant face flashes across my screen….I remember what it felt like to hold him in my lap as he dozed off to sleep, the scent of his strawberry shampoo and the sound of his breathing as he drifted off. I remember singing him his favorite lullabies on nights like this, when he had had a bad dream and couldn’t get back to sleep. Perhaps that’s why I don’t sing anymore, perhaps that part of me died with him, too. I turn on the videos of him singing “Big Green Tractor,” and I hear him quietly say “Did you get it, Mama?” before the recording stops. Yes, Tanner, I did. I sit back and watch the next few videos that he and his sister made…dancing around on the coffee table singing their favorite songs. His infectious laughter echoing through the room. Yes, Tanner…I got it. I’m so happy I did. I lay back, using Riley as my pillow. She turns to look at me as if to say, “I miss him, too,” and we doze off once more.