Everyday I teeter on this fine line between my dreams and reality. Dreams that he’s still alive and here, but just working. Sometimes they feel so real that when I snap back into the reality, I think it must be a lie. It takes me a minute as I look around and realize, that cruel thought, is actually my reality.

Every time I hear a truck or the dogs run to the door, for a second, I think that’s him coming home. I’ll never understand how he could take himself away from us. No warnings or signs, no hugs or kisses goodbye. Maybe that’s why this is so hard to accept… it never seemed possible there would be a day that he wouldn’t come home.

Days like today, when he would have been at the firehouse seem like a dream and when I wake up tomorrow morning, he’ll be home. Unfortunately, that’s not my reality and never will be again.

Confusing my dreams and reality is dangerous… at times it makes it seem impossible to let go of the past. No matter how hard it is, I can’t let the dreams of my past blind me from the reality of my present and the hopes for my future.