Posted by: carolyn / through a widow's eyes | December 2, 2015

like so much smoke…

Last night I dreamed that my Jeff was alive, and planning to leave me. This dream went on and on. He had decided to divorce me because for decades he hated the way I picked up the messy room and put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket. (!) He’d been planning to go for a while and finally couldn’t take another minute. I was astounded. Crushed, broken! Then pissed. I said to him:
“After all I’ve been through for you, this is what happens?!”
and burst into tears. This referring to the years since he died, all that pain, all the heartache, so many years of complicated grief, clinical depression, utter disability. Even in sleep, deep in dream, I knew this was absurd. It was such jangled ill-logic I woke myself up, sweating, sheets tangled.
I had dreamed about him the night before, too.
Another chapters, hours long dream that drifted away like so much smoke as I was trying to capture it in a notebook upon awakening.
This after dreaming of him maybe once a year.
He’s been gone six plus years.
My life is pretty good now, after a long, long time of NOT. I am once again a (mostly) fully-functioning adult human woman. I can work and pay my bills (on time, even!); I can feed myself and run a household; the brain fog of early widowhood has mostly dissipated; I no longer feel I am a danger to myself or others when I drive. Occasionally I sleep through a whole night. Not often, but sometimes. The drinking is largely under control, and I usually do not have to rush out of the grocery store empty-handed and in tears any more. Most grieving people could tell you they face these and other trials.
I feel a little unsettled right now with various aspects of this new life, but it’s nothing tragic. Of course, it’s coming on Christmas (they’re cutting down trees), and his birthday is in early January, but aside from that, there’s no particular anniversary or other trigger that might bring about these unsettling dreams of my long lost love.
“What the hell, baby?”
Is what I would say to him.
If he were here.
Which, of course, he is not.

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