I regularly envisage Lou walking through the door. I assume this is a prevalent event for any individual that has tragically lost someone they love. It can often evoke a feeling of happiness as it depends on the stimulant for the vision.
Most often though, the vision of her presence brings a wave of sadness. This is simply a disappointment that the dreamy event is an impossible reality.
Of recent weeks the hallucination of her joining us has been a result of Noah and Evie’s fast-paced growth; physically, emotionally and mentally.
I’m getting it daily.
The catalyst of “seeing” Lou walk through the door is wanting her to desperately see Evie and Noah and witness much they are changing.
The vision then moves to the kid’s hypothetical reception to seeing their mum miraculously appear. I imagine the reactions of the interaction between Lou, Noah and Evie. The hugs, the kisses, the conversation, the excitement.
The whole thought process probably happens in milliseconds before I’m jolted back to the brutal reality that she won’t be waltzing through the door. No matter what special or insignificant event either of the kids might do.
The small positive in this wave of disappointing reality is that it highlights how proud I am of Noah and Evie. Proud of all the small things, the tiny stuff I previously would have taken for granted.