Today was an exceptionally hard day.  Probably the hardest day yet since my foster mom Harriet or Hari as most of us called her, died.

She died kind of suddenly in June and I think I have spent most days in some level of denial since then.  It is not that I have not cried and have not grieved, but not the kind of grief I felt today.

Two nights in the last week I have dreamed about Hari.  In both she was already gone and all I can really remember is a deep sense of loss in my dreams and a disbelief at the same time.  It is as if I am just reliving those first few days after her death.

Out of the four major deaths I have experienced in the past 28 years I have only dreamed about two of them.  I did not dream about my dad when he died.  I would imagine that I just didn’t really care enough.  I didn’t dream about my best friend Laura, I knew where she went.

I dreamed about Sam often when he died.  Now I have dreamed about Harriet.  I am sure someone could probably analyze those for me and tell me what I already know….I hate that she is not on this earth anymore.

And so here I was on the way to church this morning, I mentioned the dreams to my husband and then just couldn’t stop crying. it was as if I had turned on a faucet, not full blast but steady.  Today it was real.

I realized that I have so many regrets.  I didn’t think I did at first, but I do.  I wish I would have spent more time with her. I wish I would have called her more.  I wish I would have visited her more.  I wish she was still in my life.

I know that she knew how much I loved her.  I know that she knows she had my respect and admiration.  I know that she knew and was comfortable with her place in my heart.  I know she knew all of that.  But I wish that those things had translated into more time with her.  and it didn’t.

She was significant because in a world of chaos she was the only adult who made sense.  In a world filled with a parent who didn’t give a crap, she gave a crap for someone she owed nothing too.  In a world where there was never a safe moment, she was safety.  Security.  Protection.

Not that Harriet was perfect by any means.  She wasn’t a saint and she would be pissed as hell if I painted her that way.  But for me, for a little girl in a world of fear, of outbursts, of anger, of emotional upheaval…..she was safety.

I knew I could count on her.  She didn’t move every year or so just because. She was always home to me.  Wherever she was, whatever house or condo she lived in, walking into her house was walking into home.  It didn’t matter that it wasn’t “the house I grew up in”  it mattered that it was Hari.

I don’t have that anymore, and now , at this time during Thanksgiving that is more real to me than I would like it to be.

So today I cried on the way to church, I  very ashamedly cried IN church and cried on the way home.  I cried because I miss her, I cried because I have regrets, I cried because it is going to be Thanksgiving, I cried because I am so disappointed……with God…..because we finally moved closer, we finally would get more time, she was looking forward to it, I was looking forward to it and two months after I got here she was gone.

I want more time and I will not get it.  She was not saved.  That I think is a more painful reality.  I find myself hoping that somehow she found a loophole and ended up in heaven……I know…..

I think I will have a lot more sad days, days of ugly grief.  In some ways I welcome them because the hurt reminds me that I was loved.  I would prefer just the knowing that I was loved part….

So today was a day of grief, may that grief remind me to stay thankful and grateful for having someone in my life who made me feel safe.