On April 1, 2003, Jason proposed to me. Since Jason couldn’t do anything halfway, his proposal was unique and elaborate. After dinner at a quaint little Italian restaurant, Jason went our to the car and returned with a hatbox. He had decorated the box with the words “A DREAM… LOVE, LIFE, JOY” He handed me the lid and began to pull items out of the box. First he pulled out a green piece of felt. He told me how he had a dream that some day we would have a piece of land/farm. Next he pulled out a wooden house. He spoke of how we would have a house. Of course it would be a fixer-upper, so he also pulled out some little tools. He proceeded to tell me a story about our life and each time, he pulled something else out of the box and added to the house or land (all doll house style stuff). Finally, after about 50 things he pulled out a red barn that said Jason loves Joy in John Deer Green. Then he asked me to make his dream come true and be his wife. He opened the little barn and inside was the ring.
Almost five years later, that dream has come to an end with Jason’s sudden passing. While certain parts of the original dream came true, (We had a loving home, a fixer-upper house, a mailbox, a dog, a baby, and I even occasionally cooked for Jason.) the rest is not possible. We won’t buy a hobby farm together, have a barn (with or without writing on the side) or sit on a park bench and watch birds in the birdbath when we are old and gray.
I am still reeling from shock. Truthfully, I really don’t care if we ever bought a farm, had four kids, traveled the world or sat on a park bench. The important part of the dream was that we were together sharing life and love.
How do I mourn the end of our dream? How do I even begin to find the courage to begin to develop a new dream for the future?
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