Lately, lots of little reminders are causing the dull ache of grief to flare up. Last night Mom and I played a game of rummy. Mom covered her face and asked, "Do you remember how gleeful Jolene was when she went out and caught us with a bunch of cards in our hands?" Yes, Mom, I remembered.
This afternoon (on doctor's orders, no less), I took to bed. I crawled into the bottom of my bunk and clutched a teddy bear to my chest. I reached for my favorite blanket, a large throw with a picture of three cats perched on a fence. Jolene gave both the bear and the blanket to me.
I looked up at the top bunk where Jolene slept on her visits. If I let it, the nightly reminders could rob me of much needed rest.
Instead, I think of myself as wrapped and surrounded by Jolene's love. She loved me and showed me in every way she was capable of.
I may keep that blanket until it's as worn as a security blanket.