January 6, 2016

8 Months Without Rudy

Tomorrow will be eight months since Rudy died.  Sometimes I think I talk to him more now than even when he's alive.  Yes, it's possible I'm losing my mind.  I can call on him anytime, day or night.  I can chat with him in the middle of the night.  I can even chat with him now during a Braves game. He's never once complained.  (He'd laugh at that.) Anytime something significant happens, I can almost hear him chiming in.  Sometimes, his brother Jimmy throws in his opinion as well.  I can count on both of them to have a unique, humorous, and no-nonsense opinion on everything.  They have been particularly helpful anytime I've made a mistake or felt stressed.  Both of them knew exactly how to deal with drama.  They were drama geniuses!

Sometimes, I get very unique signs from Rudy.  They usually happen in a way that's a bit hard to deny.  This morning while on my morning walk, I was thinking about some recent goings-on in my life and what Rudy would make of them.  I knew exactly what he'd say about them.  It was definitely a time when I felt he was speaking to me.  Jimmy was throwing in his two cents worth, too.  Suddenly, I wondered if there might be a heart cloud in the sky.  I looked up and this is what I saw -

This photo has not been retouched in any way whatsoever!

One cloud in the sky and it was a heart.  It was my friend, Shirley, who started this whole heart cloud thing.  Right after Rudy died, she suddenly started seeing heart clouds everywhere.  Many times, it would be the only cloud in the sky, like the one I saw this morning.  She sent me photos of her sightings, almost one a week.  Now, I'm seeing them often, too.

I still get a feeling sometimes, that surely this whole thing never happened. Rudy can't be gone.  He was just here and he was so strong and healthy. It's a weird sensation and it doesn't only occur when I first wake up.  Sometimes I get the feeling in the middle of the day when I'm good and alert.  It would be so great if this were just a long nightmare.  You know, if it were a nightmare, there are so many things I'd do differently.  The very first thing I would do is give him the biggest, longest hug ever.


He was so amazing.  I was lucky to have had him as long as I did.  I wish I'd been lucky enough to have had him another two or three decades.

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