To dream a new dream...
When Bryan and I first got together, we began talking about the kind of life we wanted to have. We had dreams of a fantastic wedding, which became a beautiful reality and an amazing honeymoon and then we were hoping to start our family within a year or the wedding. There wasn't a dream or a plan that we didn't envision each other in.
When you lose your significant other it's not just a loss of presence. It's a loss of the life you had built together AND the dream of your future spent together. Bryan and I talked about kids and had even picked out names. He said I could name the girl, Lilianna Grace, if he could pick out the boy's name, which he decided would be Castiel Jack and we'd call him Cas. It didn't just stop there. He often talked about growing old together and how he wanted to go home to Kentucky when it was time to retire. He often spoke of us rocking away on the front porch, people watching all of our neighbors and already commenting on the imagined shenanigans of our imagined neighbors.
The realization that I now had to let go of the future we had talked about for so long. There wasn't going to be a little Lily or Cas to chase after or finally going to the top of the Eiffel Tower to conquer our fear of heights together and that image of us rocking away on our front porch, holding hands faded. Those dreams we had talked about for hours are tucked safely in my heart along with the memories we made together.
While I still don't know what new dreams to dream, I am inspired by the fearlessness that Bryan demonstrated in life.
When you lose your significant other it's not just a loss of presence. It's a loss of the life you had built together AND the dream of your future spent together. Bryan and I talked about kids and had even picked out names. He said I could name the girl, Lilianna Grace, if he could pick out the boy's name, which he decided would be Castiel Jack and we'd call him Cas. It didn't just stop there. He often talked about growing old together and how he wanted to go home to Kentucky when it was time to retire. He often spoke of us rocking away on the front porch, people watching all of our neighbors and already commenting on the imagined shenanigans of our imagined neighbors.
The realization that I now had to let go of the future we had talked about for so long. There wasn't going to be a little Lily or Cas to chase after or finally going to the top of the Eiffel Tower to conquer our fear of heights together and that image of us rocking away on our front porch, holding hands faded. Those dreams we had talked about for hours are tucked safely in my heart along with the memories we made together.
While I still don't know what new dreams to dream, I am inspired by the fearlessness that Bryan demonstrated in life.
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