I had my first normal poop yesterday. After the month of no sleep, odd food, stress, and sorrow, it was good to have something normal.
As I started today, I remembered tea in Ireland. Each region has its own tea affinity. My favorite area is in the south, and they tend to drink Barry’s. I opened my box of imported Barry’s for my morning cup and noticed it’s almost gone.
We sat in front of this airBNB with a large pot covered with a pink fuzzy ta dozy. Sitting amongst reeds, willows, and hydrangea. Listening to the wind and the farmer on the other side of the hill as his tractor cut hay. We talked about ogham stones and Irish heritage with our host and I was blissful: great tea, great environs, and I looked forward to giving gifts and talking with my kids about all of this.
We picked up an ogham stone for Gabriel and I was thinking about that, then, and this morning, I realized what I didn’t know then was the pain of three months hence to lose Gabriel. For a moment, I could time travel to that brain and know what it doesn’t know and share, momentarily, in that bliss again.
It is an odd bridge that spans space and time, that remembering.
Since his death, I’ve had two moments of deja vu that from my current location gave me a sense that he would be gone. The first time was during that first week.
The second deja vu was shortly before Thanksgiving. We had planned a trip to California for Christmas to spend with our friends the Laucher’s. Gabriel and Brent were cut from the same cloth and likely the reason our families were so close. After Gabriel’s death, the family talked about whether we would still make that trip and everyone said “yes”, so we’re going to S.C. this year.
I reached out to see if Brent had room for us to crash at his place and he asked, “For 7 right?” and I said, “6 now.” As soon as I did, I had another deja vu.
I had dreamed at some point there would be six of us.