My Writing

RESTORED

Ted came to me in my dream last night. He has been gone just a few short weeks and I
didn’t get to say goodbye, not until last night. This dream was unlike anything I had dreamed
before. It was so vivid, so tangible; the colors, the touch, the emotions. This morning, with my head foggy from the night, I tried to go about my day as usual but it was not usual. I felt compelled to write. Compelled to record what I experienced last night as I lay sleeping. 

It was my dream, he visited, restored was that which was broken not so long ago. Something significant happened in those hours of my sleeping as heaven came close.  I was back at my house in NH about a month ago. I was out shopping and saw him in the distance, Ted. I waved but he didn’t see me. He was with his girlfriend and I decided not to bother them. He looked awful and it scared me. I could tell something was wrong. I had always worried about him. His job was hard on his body and he was a heavy smoker. I couldn’t get him off my mind the rest of the day and into the night. The next day he called and told me he was in the hospital with pneumonia. I went to see him but was not prepared for what I found.  It was much worse than what I had seen from a distance just a couple of days before. He had become so thin and frail he looked like a different man than the one I had known. He was expected to recover, but the tests would provide more information. That afternoon he called again, it was lung cancer but was treatable and there was hope.

With a heavy heart I headed home to Phoenix as planned. About a week later I got the word Ted was terminal and had just 2-3 months to live. I called him.  We talked, we told each other “I love you”, and he said he wasn’t afraid to die. I had seen his thin cancer racked body in that hospital bed and I knew it wouldn’t be long.   I needed to see him and he needed me to come. I purchased my return ticket. My plane would arrive in Boston on Tuesday and I would see him Wednesday morning.  We talked on Sunday and he said he would see me soon. I was ready to be at his side to do whatever was needed. I packed movies I knew he liked, books I could read to him, his silver cross we bought in Jerusalem, the glass jar of shells and stones we collected at the shore of the Sea of Galilee, my wedding band that now only fit my pinky finger, and his Sunday school attendance pins that had been in my jewelry box for so many years. But our meeting was not meant to be. I would not make it in time. 

After we talked that last time our daughter called me the next morning to tell me he was gone. He died suddenly, peacefully, avoiding the suffering that so often comes in the end with terminal cancer. I boarded the plane the next morning and as we left the ground the tears streamed down my face. In my mourning it came to me If I had made it to his side it may have been to dramatic, maybe even painful for those who loved us. Too many words may have been spoken. We had no unfinished business, we knew how we felt about each other and he knew I was on my way. My arrival may have been too much for both of us. In his sudden death we were spared this as he was spared from suffering. 

Now I am back at my home in Phoenix. Everything was over so quick. It has only been a few weeks since his funeral. Here and there the grief sneaks in and I crumble. Last night I was lying in my bed and had started to cry, again.  As I tried to go to sleep, my memories of Ted were hitting me hard and I decided not to fight them. I let them envelop me and did not hold back my tears.  I pressed my head into my pillow and pulled my legs up to my chest and felt the pain push into me. My husband walked in and lay down next to me, he wrapped his arms around me and he knew what was happening; Ted was in our bed again.  As husband and wife, both married before, we have come to understand our bed is crowded with the ones that came before.  These past weeks since Ted’s death my husband has had to share me as I have been reliving my life with Ted. I have been sorting through the past, dealing with the sting of reality and the punishment that comes with the “what ifs”.  My husband is a wonderful and loving man and he truly understands my grief. Early on in our relationship he came to understand my love for Ted. This love would always be there and he accepted this as part of me. He knows this is sacred ground and respects it. When I had told him that Ted was terminal he asked no questions, he handed me the American Express Card and said “Do what you have to do.”

As I finally closed my eyes last night I felt the peace of sleep come over me, it came as relief. From some depth of sleep I began to dream.  I found myself standing in the house on Pleasant Street where Ted and I lived with our daughter for years. It had been our dollhouse. It was an antique Victorian with a large barn. We fixed it up together and decorated it with things we found throughout our time there. Our home had become a source of pride and our place of comfort, but the time came when I had to leave. My leaving was painful for both of us. I had no idea at the time how painful leaving could be. Ted stayed on living in the house after I was gone, but the economy spiraled and he eventually lost it. In my dream the house was empty and in disrepair. Gone were the elements that once made this house our home, it was broken.  Ted was inside the house standing in the room that had been our kitchen. Above him there were cracks in the plaster walls. The cracks went through to the outside and a bright light and a soft breeze was coming through. I squinted at the light and felt the breeze on my face. I looked at him. He was not the Ted I saw lying in a hospital bed just a month ago. This was the Ted at the peak of his life, handsome and smiling.  We looked into each other’s eyes.  His eyes were the deep blue I had looked into so many times before but they were somehow softer now. There was no strain; I saw perfect peace. He was wearing brand new blue jeans, work boots that showed no sign of work and the forest green windbreaker I had bought for him years ago. He had a look of relief about him like he used to look when were headed for vacation and his long work week was over. I stepped toward him and touched his arm and I could feel the fabric of his jacket on my finger tips. We came together and wrapped our arms around each other. I could feel his form. Not the thin, frail form he had at the end of his life but the rugged form I knew so well.  I felt the shape of his muscles and the strength in his body, he was restored. We held tight, both of us started to cry somehow knowing that this embrace would soon be over. Our feelings for each other in this moment were so pure, free of the sexual tension we had experienced in each other for so many years. Holding each other was like touching eternity, for those moments we were sharing one soul. There were no questions left to ask, we understood. What once was broken was being restored in our embrace. I felt an anxious rush and thoughts raced through my mind trying to figure a way we could stay with each other, even with the knowing we could not. I reached up and felt the back of his head, his soft, thick, dark hair. It felt to me as it always did when we would hold each other. “I love you”. “I love you”. “I know”. “I know”. We held each other for just a few more moments and then he pulled away and I did not try to stop him. We stepped back from each other and I could feel his tears on my cheek, the wet, and the salt where we had pressed our faces together in longing. He told me he had to go, he couldn’t stay. I knew what that meant. We could not be what we once were. I knew he had to go. I stood still, silently watching him move, I did not wipe the tears from my face. He looked at me and wiped his tears, he smiled, and turned to go. I had noticed his packed duffel bag on the counter behind him, but he did not take it with him, he looked at it but left it there. I watched him walk out of the house and I stood aware of the empty place inside me, knowing I would not see him again, not in this life. He had somewhere he needed to go, a place where I could not go with him. We had finally come to our end. It was his turn to leave. As he left I saw a strength in him I had not seen before. A feeling of peace passed through me, he was at his best, and he was all right. He was done with the things of this life and I would no longer need to worry about him.  I awoke from my dream with a strange sense about me, not knowing what to do next. I closed my eyes and tried to go back, but my dream was over.

My dream last night was our goodbye.  I believe he came to me from heaven and so I could hug him one last time and feel the completion of what we had shared together. I felt his heavenly body, looked into his bluest eyes, and touched his softest hair, for he was in his most perfect form.

Now I have my memories of what we once were. Young, in love, and unknowing as to what the future had in store for us. Ignorance was our bliss, knowing is now my reality. He was present in my life from my young age of 16 when he became my husband and for 17 years. We lived a unique and loving existence.   My heart aches with the pain I caused him with my leaving, but for some reason I had to go. Now he is gone, but in the end we knew how much we truly loved each other and that is what my dream was made of.

THE WALK

After my husband left for work and I dropped my daughter off at school I would drive toward the beach in anticipation. Each day I would meet him for our walk along the boulevard, three miles up and back. A walk I never wanted to end. We talked about everything I ever wanted to talk about.  His knowledge to me was endless and he made me look at things in a way I had not known how to before.  Some mornings the tide would be high and the waves crashing into the ocean wall. The salt water would spray over the wall and sprinkle down on us. We often had to jump out of the way to avoid being showered by the surf. Other times the tide would be out and we would walk along the shore, shoes in hand. The glistening sand and receding water was enchanting and made me feel this was the only place in the world I should be.

He had become a knowledgeable friend who was teaching me about life.  His presence excited me and challenged me. Those walks along the shore brought new dimension to my life and I would forever be changed. It seemed so right to be with him. How could this ever be anything but perfect, how could this ever cause harm to anyone? 



One morning it was especially cold and windy but weather conditions had yet to keep us from our walk.  As we walked along I said how it was not as cold as I thought it would be and it really felt quite nice in the sun.  He stopped and put his hands on my shoulders, he turned me around to face the other direction and said wait until the walk back, when we are walking into the wind. I stood there and felt the sting of cold wind on my face and the dread of the cold walk back. I snugged my hood around my neck and tucked my hands into my pockets in preparation for the return.

This would become our story.  I would learn in life as I did on that morning walk along the beach that the warmth and excitement I felt heading in one direction would soon change to
freeze and sting. At that time I did not know where this journey was headed. If I could have seen a little further down the path I may have turned around sooner.  What haunts me now is deep inside myself I knew, but I kept going because I wanted to feel the warmth a little longer. I wasn’t ready to go back.