Last weekend, I climbed a mountain with my sangha friends to honour my husband and to raise money for a fund set up in his name. I came home from that mountain imbued with a new courage. My hike up that trail, under the most adverse conditions, has helped me to let go of the fears I have had around conquering other obstacles in my life.
I have been afraid to let go of my beloved husband. I will never let go of his memory, or the love I have for him. Those things will always remain. I think of him every day, in every moment, and his presence lingers in this house and this village and these hills. His love and generosity brought me to the colourful world of Northern England, a place I am happy to call home, and I am so grateful that knowing him brought such a richness to my life.
But I have needed to make room in my mind and heart for who I am to be, and to make this home my own. I have needed to put away some of his things to find the parts of me that have been hidden. I have needed to make space, to clear, to cleanse, to let go.Read more
Today is the first day of June, and eight days from the first anniversary of my beloved husband’s sudden death. While last year, at this time, England was sweltering under a heat wave, the temperature has barely climbed above 55F (13C) this spring. I check the weather forecast obsessively, grasping for some sign of a sliver of warmth. I want to lie in a field of grass and let the sun shed light on the dark and frozen places inside me. I want to warm the parts that are numb.
It’s been almost a year since he was here with me, and sometimes that feels so long ago. I don’t want to lose the memories I have. I don’t want them to fade with the passage of time. But lately, I have felt him slipping from my grasp.Read more
I wrote this piece on Tuesday evening, after a very profound phone session with my grief-therapist, in which we talked about a horrible dream I had awhile back , where Don was still alive - and told me he wanted a divorce, and that he didn't love me, and that he had never loved me. I honestly had no idea what that dream meant, or why I would dream that he was being so cruel to me, when I know 100% that he would NEVER be that way with me in real life. Never, never, never. My therapist is so smart, and she cleared this up for me pretty quickly.Read more
I never dream of him. I can't for the life of me figure out why or how the person I spent most moments of 15 years with, the person I was closest to in my entire life, doesn't show up in my dreams now that he's gone from this earth. Or if he is, why I don't remember those dreams but I do remember the mundane, annoying, or ridiculous dreams instead.
I love science and I search automatically for a scientifically sound answer for this, but there really isn't one. I think even the science world is a little stumped by dreaming.
I do know that the belief is that the subconscious is always talking to us and processing while we dream. And that it doesn't talk very directly necessarily. It talks in symbols and metaphors and can be twisted and unreal.
I've been struggling with my dog, Clifford. He had a shoulder injury that seemed to be getting better thanks to the vet and pain medication.
Monday I got up at 3:30am to go to work and I couldn't find Clifford. After searching the house, I found him sitting in the bathtub just staring at the wall. Not laying down, just staring. He wouldn't even look at me.
Right then I knew my baby was dying. For anyone that has seen the death look in an animal knows the look.
By time the vet opened at 8:00am Clifford was in shock, needed blood transfusions and was admitted to the doggy hospital. He had an ultrasound later that afternoon, and the diagnoses was cancer. It’s through his whole abdomen, in his liver and spleen. Most likely will spread to his lungs next.
I am devastated.Read more
I dreamed of Dave the other night. He was alive, now. It had all been a trick. He had actually survived the heart failure and somehow I hadn’t known all this time. He was solid and real, but very changed after his near death experience and I was so relieved that he had survived.
I've had many dreams of Jeff since his death. There are a few that are terrifying renditions of the last few minutes of his life; but the vast majority centre on seeing him again in a variety of surprising locations.
I've found him on dairy farms slogging through the mud. I have glimpsed him on boats passing bridges that I stand upon. I have found him sitting at the dinner table expectant for his next meal.Read more
.... last night that Jim came back.
I know. A nightmare? It should have been a dream.
A wonderful dream.
But it wasn't.
He just walked in to our house one day.
Three and a half years after his "death" .... he just walked in.
In this dream he had been in the Service and I had evidently been notified that he had been killed.
I guess they never found his body .... you know how dreams are.
Written 6 months after Jeff's death...
A few weeks ago, I had a dream that I was standing on a bridge looking toward the sea where a fishing boat was coming. I started calling out to it. I was calling Jeff's name. As it came closer, I could see Jeff standing on the bow waving to me. He jumped off the boat as it was about to go under the bridge and swam to me on the shore. He was laughing. He held me so close and I cried as he had me in his arms. I felt safe. I felt comfort. I felt protected. Most of all, I felt Jeff's love. I didn't want the dream to end. I was disappointed to wake and find that my life is what it now is. I need another one of those dreams. I need Jeff.Read more