Devin's Way, May 8: Another dream, and another person saved


May 8, 2012
            Nine months and a day.
            That’s how long it’s been since Devin was killed.
            It didn’t hit me until last night about 9 p.m., as I was ironing my clothes. I said something to Ruth about it.
            “I know,” she said quietly.
            And for the nine-month anniversary of his death, Devin came to me in a dream last night. Don’t know if I can call these kinds of dreams a vision like the one on 80th Street. That night, and the feeling of Devin being with us on Thanksgiving remain the strongest form of a connection I’ve had with him since his death. They were beyond mere dreams or coincidences.
            In last night’s dream, I found myself in Devin’s room, the way it looked when we were stationed in Germany, but the bed was pulled to the middle of the room so I could stand on one side and Ruth on the other. She came into the room in her nursing scrubs ready to go to work and wanted to say goodbye. I was on the other side. Devin, as a grown adult – or close to it – was lying in bed resting.
            We both reached down to touch him. To hug him.
            “Oh sweetie, we miss you so much,” Ruth told him. “We love you and miss you.”
            My head brushed his. I could feel the wiry hair that could only belong to Devin. I could smell his brown, wiry hair as it brushed my nose and forehead. I could smell his breath.
            “Devin,” I said. “We love you so much. We miss you.”
            He returned the hug and smiled at us both.
            “I miss you guys. I love you, too.”
            Ruth and I looked at each other with a bit of a smile, both knowing it was a dream and when we’d look again, Devin would be gone.
            But he didn’t leave.
            “He’s still here!” I said.
            We knew, intrinsically, this was a blessing, and hugged him once more. And once more he returned the hug. We smiled at each other. We had him back, for just a few moments.
            And then the moment was gone. It was no longer Devin lying in bed.
            I woke up and it was 4:14 a.m.
            What a dream.
            I live for moments like that.
***
            

            Pulled into the parking lot at work today, and as I pulled into my spot,  saw the driver behind me,  talking on her cell phone.
            I had one more bracelet in my car.
            Months earlier I had stopped someone in the same lot for talking on her cell phone and driving. She took great offense, and even reported it to Great Powers here, who asked me if I did that, and I admitted I had. Nothing came of it.
            But I made Devin a promise. I made myself a promise. I followed through on that promise today.
            I waited for her to get out of her car. Her eyes met mine and she smiled.
            “Excuse me,” I said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you … ”
            “One second, Mom,” she said.
            It got her attention as she put down the phone and listened.
            “My son was killed by a driver on a cell phone,” I continued with a kind smile. “Again, I’m not trying to scare you, but it just makes me cringe when I see someone do that. If you could please try to break that habit, I would really appreciate it.”
            She smiled back.
            “I am so sorry,” she said.
            “It’s OK, I’m just trying to let people know.”
            “I am sorry, I will try to break the habit for you.”
            “Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot.”
            Mission accomplished.
            I looked up to the sky.
            “That’s one more person, Devin.”

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