March 29, 1994

"Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for but never seen."
                                                                        Anne Sexton  -  Poet

Saturday night as I slept at the Ramada Inn in Newburgh, New York, I had the following dream.  I dreamed of Harold Holbrook, my parents' longtime neighbor and friend , who died a few months ago.  Harold was in a celestial chamber - he was wearing a white robe and was smiling as he reached out his arms to welcome me.  His face was warm and joyous as he softly told me that everything is all right and not to be afraid. Since he was the last person I knew who died, he was there to meet me and lead me home. He said it was the custom of heaven for the last person someone knew who had died, to greet the "new arrival" and hold his hand and lead him to God>  That was my dream.

When I got back from the cemetery yesterday afternoon, I told my parents about the dream. A short time later there was a knock on the door.  It was Jean, Herold's wife,. She stopped by just to say hello and my mother told me to tell her about my dream, which I did. When I finished Jean said what a coincidence, Palm Sunday was Harold's favorite feast day.  It wan't a coincidence to me, but a powerful premonition of what is to be - a sign of certainty that my plan is blessed, my fate a fulfillment of predestination.

I arrived back in Chatham at 8:00am, just in time for morning  Mass. It was nice to see familiar faces and friends - to have people say hello and be glad to see me. But I was worried about what they knew about my divorce and what they were thinking behind their smiles and greetings.

When I picked up my mail at the Post Office, I had a beautiful card and a wonderful letter from Robin. I then went to the library and wrote her a letter. She has become a friend, I find myself wanting to love her, love her as the daughter I never had.

I must call Maggie tonight. Jesus, what a nightmare! I dread that call!  She sent me a postcard with these words, "Call me when you get back!"  Although it's nice to be back in Chatham, I've also returned to the tomb of my unhappiness and the vampire beckons..

What have I wished for but have never seen - my grampa Frawley and I sitting at the bar in the Amvets drinking shots of Jameson and bottles of Ballantine Ale.  We are watching TV, the seventh game of the World Series.  We are wearing Red Sox caps. It's the ninth inning and there are two outs. He bets me a buck that the next batter is going to the ball right through Bill Buckner's legs.  The batter swings and hits a bouncing ball right at Buckner - he scoops it up and steps on first. The bar erupts!  My grampa and I yell out a cheer, jump up and hug - there are tears in our eyes.

When I dreamed of Harold and me at heaven's gate, my soul saw a picture of what it wishes for and what it hopes to see.

5:00pm   -   Bradford Inn   -   Chatham, MA

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