SIXTEEN MONTHS

 Today is September 1, 2011.  It is sixteen months since I had to say goodbye to my dearest husband.  Odell.

Actually, we didn't get even a moment to say goodbye.  And because of the cruel and unfair way it happened. That will be
later.  Someday I will share these sad and tragic details.  Until then, there will be some winding trails.  Some valleys. Some mountain peaks.  Faith. And so much love.

Losing the love of my life on May 1, 2010, has been the darkest waters God has allowed me
to go through in this life.
There are days it hurts just to breathe.  It's in these darkest of hours, my heart has cried out to God for His comfort.  I ask Him nearly every night to bring Odell to me in my dreams.

 Because I miss his face.  I miss that beautiful smile. I miss his laugh.  And those gorgeous blue eyes. And sometimes God grants my request.  Not every night.  Not nearly as often as my heart desires.  But when He does this for me, the dreams are so clear.

It was one of those lonely nights when I finally cried myself to sleep.  And there he was.  It felt as though I was standing back. Watching from a distance. We were sitting together in church. In our usual pew. His arm around my shoulders. And happy.

  Then the scene changed.  Still in church.  Now my husband was
sitting in a different pew and he was alone.  I was still looking on. Watching intently. I saw his hand go
up to his shirt pocket.  It was a button down pocket.  He opened it and reached inside.  It was what he
did frequently during a service.  Reached in his pocket to retrieve a couple of soft peppermints for us. When he opened the pocket, I didn't see the mints.  I saw these words in a semi-circle on the inside of the flap.
Praying for Barb. . .and the dream was over.

I awakened and I was crying.  Only this time I was thanking God for such a wonderful revelation.
He had looked down and felt my deepest distress. My tears had touched His heart. I think He must have cried with me.

And then I believe he asked my sweet Odell to pray for me.


Sharing this dream with you, my readers, just feels right.  What would I do if I
didn't have God to turn to during the lonely and long night hours.  In that big empty bed.  Where only sixteen months ago, we fell asleep holding one another.
 Or just holdimg hands. Never wanting to let go.

One night just before falling asleep, I asked him, 'Baby, can you imagine us ever not being together?'
There was the slightest hesitation before he responded huskily.  With tears in his voice. 'Not hardly, honey.'



I remember his words. His tone. His gentleness. His touch. And sometimes I remember and smile.


Sometimes I cry. But knowing we will be together again one day reminds me to be happy.