More Than Dreams

It’s been two years too long since the passing of my Babcia.

Over two years since Monday breakfast dates at Jack’s. 

Over two years since check-in calls I never realized I needed. 

Over two years since she’s called me a pain in her dupa. 

A few months ago, on an ordinary Monday morning, I was pummeled with a wave of grief. You know the ones. It’s tough to get much done with at-random tear attacks blurring your vision. 

I started to have thoughts that honestly left me feeling quite guilty. I haven’t had many dreams of Babcia since she passed. For some reason, in my idealistic grief world (like, what? Idealize the grieving process? I guess I do), I thought she might often visit in my dreams, and that would keep me connected to her. 

I had maybe one brief dream that I couldn’t even quite recollect since she had passed. It had been over a year and a half, and here I was feeling slighted and disconnected. And feeling like an asshole for feeling that way. 

I received a text from a neighbor across the street. Sally is an elderly woman who lives alone. She doesn’t have any grandchildren. She walks her two regal but energetic Cavaliers every day. She keeps her property in pristine condition. She always has the latest scoop on Palace Court happenings, and is not afraid to protect the integrity of her neighborhood. She’s neighborly but tough as nails to boot. 

Sally asked me to meet her out front to give me something for the kids without any rhyme or reason. I snuck out the side door to greet her, and she walked across the street with a Boscov’s bag in hand.

Boscov’s was Babcia’s shopping mecca. It held everything she needed (or didn’t need) to gift to everyone in her life. She was at peace when giving Boscov’s all of her money. 

She handed me the bag, which contained a book and a few stuffed animals. She told me they were just-because gifts for my adorable kids and followed that up with–

“You’re a wonderful mom, and your husband is such a great father. I notice how hard you both work, and you’re doing a great job.” 

I thanked Sally (profusely). 

I went inside, went back upstairs to my desk, and once the thought settled in, I cried my eyes out. 

What we built was more than post-life visits in dreams. It was about seeing you in my everyday life. It was about you shining through in those around me and sending me the messages I need in less obvious ways.

Babcia appreciates the random gifts Sally spoiled my kids with that day because she wasn’t here to give them. 

And I appreciate the sign and connection.