I received what I believe to be a "message" over the weekend, though not from Byron. My grandmother, whom I lost in 1995, wanted me to know she was watching over me and helping me through this time of grief, and I believe she truly is. If you're up to reading, I'll tell you about it (I'll try to make it short as possible).

When I was 10 years old, my grandmother gave me her St. Christopher's medal which she had worn since she was about 10 or so. I treasured it and wore it every day. When I was 13, our house burned down and we lost everything we owned...except through some miracle, a little ceramic jewelry box survived, and inside was my St. Christopher's medal, which also survived largely intact (albeit with some charred edges). I still carried the medal around with me in my wallet, through college and dating Byron, and up until I had my first child. Sometime after André was born in 1994, the medal disappeared. I had no idea where it was or where I might have lost it. I can't count the time I have spent looking for it. When Nanny died in 1995, I was so devistated since I couldn't find the medal, the only thing I had of hers.

Fast forward to this past weekend. André was out of town, so the two little ones decided to play in the yard with his metal detector, which is a toy one from Target and cost all of $15 bucks. It's not a good one. ;) Anyway, at some point Saturday morning, Clay comes running in the house yelling, "I found a pirate coin!" He handed me this muddy chunk and I wiped it off, and nearly passed out. IT WAS MY ST. CHRISTOPHER MEDAL, charred edges and all. I got chill bumps, I cried, I screamed. I had been having a particularly bad day, and really feeling down, and I think this was a message from Nanny that she was watching us, protecting us all the time and that she knew I was hurting and wanted me to feel better. Yep, I believe in signs. Do you?

It's been four weeks today...in some ways I can't believe it's been that long, and in others it seems like an eternity. Time is so fluid and intangible...right now it's as if we are in a vacuum and everything is suspended in some strange continuum. The boys seem to be adjusting well; they play with their friends and do normal kid things without much thought. We went to the Jubilee (a fair/carnival thing) yesterday and had a good time, and the kids rode rides and played games and got to be "normal" for a while. The younger two ask questions occasionally, or mention things like, "I wish Daddy was here to do this," or "I miss Daddy." André talks to me a little bit about how he feels, which is good. He also talks to his friends, his uncle Jason, and his counselor. We all will go back to Journey of Hope (the grief support group) on Thursday, and I look forward to that. We went to church this morning, and I saw some friends of ours who miss Byron as much as we do. It's good to be around people who care.

I had a dream the other night that Byron called me on my cell phone. He used to call me about a dozen times a day, so that made sense to me. In the dream, he called and was talking to me about how he missed me and the boys, and how he is OK and loves us very much. He wanted to make sure we were all right and for us to know he was sorry he wasn't here. It was very comforting. I told my sister about the dream, and she had dreamed nearly the same thing. Isn't that neat? I think he was telling us that he is OK. Of course, I know he's OK because I know he is in heaven. He was right with God and had been for a long while. I think he's looking on us now, trying to help us through this as much as he can. I know we need him.

The weather today is beautiful...Byron would say "Perfect!" I only wish he was here. I feel like I'm treading water, with no shoreline in sight. It's a very dense fog, and I'm just lost in it. If I had only known that night would be the last time I could hear him say "I love you," I would have lingered in the hug a little longer...kissed him a little longer. I have slept with one of his shirts every night since he passed, simply because it smells like him and seems to comfort me in some tiny way. I had no idea I could miss someone so much and hurt so badly. I am trying to be strong for the boys, because they need me to be sane and calm and in control...but it's so very, very hard to do. The days are long, and the nights are miserable and practically endless. I want to cry so much, but it's as if my body is drained of tears and can't make any more. I'm mostly numb, just wishing for some kind of feeling other than the infinite loneliness I experience every day. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. I keep hearing that this will get better, so I have faith...I'm just waiting.

The boys and I have slowly returned to school and work, hoping to glean a bit of normalcy out of life as we know it now. Normal...what a foreign word to me. Nothing seems normal at all anymore. Even in the simple and mundane things, like going to the grocery store or helping one of the kids with his homework...there is no more normal. I don't find myself sobbing or weeping all day long anymore; those feelings have been replaced with a mind-altering numbness and an overwhelming sense of emptiness that nothing seems to fill.

I've signed us up for a grief support group that meets every other week. We begin on Thursday. The boys are also seeing their counselors at school on a regular basis, which is a blessing since I know each of these women very well and would trust my children with any of them and know they will truly listen to them.

I did break down and visit my physician's office last Friday to get some help with sleeping...it's still very difficult to fall asleep, and even more difficult to stay asleep longer than about 45 minutes at a time. Hopefully with her help I can get my sleep cycle more regulated and be worth a little more to my family and my employer.

Thanks to each of you for your kind regards, your private messages, and your prayers.