You know that kid at camp who was always afraid to go to the bathroom by them self? And that other kid who had to stack pillows up all around their bed to form a protective barrier while they slept? Well, that was me. Okay, it still is me.
Since I have already committed to being honest in this blog, I will admit to something a little embarrassing: I'm afraid of ghosts. Big ones, little ones, mean ones, and even nice ones.
Why do I tell you this? Because in the early stages of my grief, I would find myself sitting on my couch calling out to Joshua. Why in the world would I do this when I just told you I'm afraid of spirits, both good and bad? Well I guess you could say I was so deep in my despair, that I thought if I was able to communicate with Joshua, it would make me feel so much better.
When you lose something so dear to you, as your own son is, you seem to try anything to make the pain go away. If I knew that he was okay in his new world, I would be able to feel a sense of peace. So I would call out, "Joshua, are you there?" I would wait a few seconds for a response, then call out again, "Are you out there Joshua?"
Now I said that I wanted to be honest in this blog, but I didn't say I was going to share everything with you. I will tell you, though, that there was one time imparticular when I called out and asked if he was there, and the response was actually somewhat comical. Let's just say it gave me a small glimpse into the world where he now is and let me know just how he is doing over there.
I've also been driving down the street and have had thoughts come to me whether or not Joshua approves of what I'm doing here on Earth. I sometimes expect to look in my rear view mirror and see him in the back seat shouting, "Hey Mom! Surprise! Isn't it cool how I can fly into people's cars!"