Sandals In The Sand - Chapter One

 "Hello sweetheart..", the unmistakable deep baritone voice rang through the phone. "Was just headed to bed and remembered I haven't spoken to you today. I needed to hear your voice."

And just like I did all those years ago, I smile. Ear to ear. I close my eyes and try to bridge the distance between us. Amazed at how a feeling so long gone, could be so easily reawakened. As if it had never been separated by time, by space, by events. A feeling so strong it appears to have never skipped a beat from that odd time many, many years ago. I cling to the phone, willing him to draw closer still.

I reminisce. I smile. I close my eyes. He is closer to me now than he ever was. I can feel him. My heart races. I am living out a romance novel word for word!

I'm taken back to that first time I saw him. Young and impressionable. Far away from home. Life just beginning to happen. He, standing at the port, hard at work, counting, interviewing, noting. I, sent to pen it all down. My first real assignment. Trailing my new boss up and down trying to get the story done. And then I saw him. He was literally tall, dark and handsome, and in all sense of the words. I continued on, working... and staring. Amazed at how composed he was amidst the madness of the day. He'd done it before numerous times. I was only just getting one foot in to the system.

Was that a ring?

I wondered how one person could be so well put together. I studied him. Something about him seemed different from all the guys I'd known. He had a sort of manliness, strength and confidence about him. Something about him spelt warmth, comfort, care. You knew just by looking at him, that you'd be lucky to have him on your team.

Damn it! Was that a ring??? Did I spot a ring?!

He weaved his way through the crowd seamlessly. Hundreds of people stood there that day, but I saw only him. Your eyes truly do see just what they want to see. I would turn my back, talk to someone, write something, consult the boss. I would turn back and in an instant I'd have him locked in sight. Like a drone waiting to fire a shot, my target's position was fixed. For a moment there, I imagined he saw me too. I imagined he noticed me. I imagined he felt me there. For a moment there, I thought beyond the happenings of the time. I imagined him clasping my hand in his as we walked along the beach. Feeling the coolness of the ocean water sweeping over my feet. Leaning in. Gazing up. Soaking in. I imagined the perfect sunset and a gentle breeze crowning the beauty of the moment as I dug my sandals deeper in to the sand. Not wanting that moment to pass. Never wanting to let go. I stood there dreaming. He worked.

Darn, that's definitely a ring he's rocking! Could be just one of those rings right? Guys do that as well right? Smack on the ring finger no less. Left hand? Is that his left hand? He is wearing a ring on his left ring finger!!!

How did I get here? I sink deeper into my bed, pulling the covers over my shoulders as I try to mimic the warmth of his embrace. How did he do it? How, all these years later, are my feet solidly planted in the emotion I felt that day, years ago, when it all began? Why am I staring at my phone, waiting for it to buzz; his name flashing at me in bright yellow? Why am I holding my breathe, composing myself before I finally pick up? How did he get here? How did he get me here? The longing, the dreaming, the wishing.. all so real once again.

"Have a good night dear. Let's talk tomorrow." The conversation is coming to an end. Long before I'm ready to let him go. "I love you.."

And just like that, my sandals are stuck in the sand once more.

You Went To A Funeral and then You Went Home

You heard some bad news from a friend, relative, social media, church or maybe in a gossip circle. However you heard, you immediately felt bad, asked how to help, donated time, food, money or prayers. Whatever you did, the family was grateful, even if they didn't say it. They were blessed by your gifts.

Life goes back to normal. The family sits on your heart. You pray, you ask, you follow the updates. You did what you could.

One day, you heard the really bad news: Death won and a family lost. Forever.

Once again, you prayed, you helped, gave what you could. Even if you didn't know it, the family was thankful for you, your help, your prayers, your love and your support.

You attended the funeral, cried some real tears, laughed some real laughs, enjoyed the memories of the one who is gone. Finally, you hugged the ones who lost the most.

Once the funeral was over and the day was done, you went home. Back to life, back to love, back to those who make your world complete. You went to a funeral, and then you went home.

We all lose, but someone that day, went to a funeral and didn't want to go home.

Someone that day, drove home to the couch, the bed, the house that is forever empty. Life is not like it once was and never will be again. Where there was once laughter, sits an empty chair. The couch is bigger, the blankets and pillows are extra. There are empty shoes, clothes, toiletries that might never be used. Bags sit. Drugs disposed. So much to do and SO MANY MEMORIES left to be remembered, processed and grieved.

Time passes and the wounds are not healed. Sometimes, life feels normal and OK. Then a birthday, holiday, celebration occurs and the loss is real all over again. Sometimes life is normal, and for no reason at all, the LOSS comes right back, like it happened again.

There is loneliness, emptiness and tears. "Public faces" put on a show, and comfort the ones who interact. "Home faces" are real, raw and honest. There are headaches, stomachaches and countless mistakes made all because the grief lives in place of the person who completed a family. Not to mention the questions, the hurt, the anger that sits because it is hard to face.

Days pass, holidays pass, milestones completed the grief lives, despite how the family looks in public. Remember, it's a face, a show, an act, it's not always real; however, it's not always fake.

When you go to a funeral, and are allowed to go home to life, remember that at least one person goes home to a new life that was NOT asked for, but handed to them. Give those people more than sympathy or judgement; give them an endless amount of time to grieve in their own way. For that one act of kindness and grace, they will be forever grateful for you.

Courtney is a mom, teacher, photographer, writer and dreamer. Visitwww.oursmallmoments.com.