November 22nd is always a very tough day for me. Despite not being born until well after 11/22/63, I find I have some strange connection and/or empathy for President Kennedy. One year, I started reading books about him by his closest staff members. Soon after, I felt overwhelmingly glad that my family had planned a trip to D.C. so I could visit his grave in Arlington.
When we got to the gravesite, I was overwhelmed and became very upset. All my mom could do was console me. I can't really explain why, but it was just something that came from deep down. I slept that night very fitfully, until about 3 am when I woke up and remembered the dream I had just had. In it, I was able to run right up to President Kennedy. The only other thing I remember about it was that he smiled at me, and when I woke up, I was no longer upset but very calm.
When my aunt and uncle died less than a year later, I found a similar dream gave me similar comfort.
I don't pretend to understand what all of this means, all I can tell you is that I am very sad on Nov. 22nd every year. I used to rarely come out of the bedroom. Now I am able to 'function normally', but I find the most peace comes when I can share my thoughts like I am now.
The first ornament I will hang on my (first ever) Christmas tree this year is one my friend brought me from Boston that has JFK on it. Its my small way of acknowledging something even I don't quite understand.
Conspiracy or no, this day is the day he made the night sky a little brighter and earth a little dimmer.
Thanks for letting me ramble.
