"I Dreamed a Dream"

In my dream, he was standing there,waiting for me with his arms outstretched and smiling his beautiful smile. "I missed you so much," I said as I ran into his arms. "Life is too short and 10 days is too long for us to be apart." The dream was so real that I thought I could feel him hugging me back. But, of course, he wasn't. It was just a dream after all. This isn't the first dream I've had about Art since he died—and it's not likely to be the last—but it was the most real and it left me with an overwhelming feeling of sadness that I couldn't shake all day. Just another aspect of the grieving process.

I'm really not into analyzing dreams, but it did seem strange that I had the dream the night after I arrived in Honolulu for a vacation (and to spend some time with my college professor daughter who was there chaperoning a group of students) and I was going to be there for 10 days. I suppose the dream reflected my mixed emotions about making the trip. On the one hand, I needed some time away and I was looking forward to spending time with my daughter. On the other hand, it was a long way to travel by myself and the destination was Hawaii—my favorite place in the world, and a place where Art and I had vacationed three times before. I knew I would have to deal with some memories, but they would be happy memories and, because Art and I had never spent any time on Oahu (we preferred Maui), there weren't likely to be many "triggers" there. Of course there were more than I expected.

Although my vacation started with an unsettling dream, I was able to rest, relax, and have a nice time. My daughter and I didn't travel to Honolulu together, and while I was there, she was busy with the students during the day, so I had quite a bit of time by myself. Taking this trip gave me a taste of what it might be like to vacation alone—to make all the arrangements and fly that long distance alone, managing the luggage and the tips and the hotel; to walk beautiful beaches or explore new places alone; to eat alone and sleep alone in a hotel room… I'm not sure I'm the type, but I guess time will tell.

Art and I had already planned how we were going to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary. We were going to go to Maui with the whole family. I never dreamed we wouldn't be able to do that.

Over another hurdle

Everyone tells me that all "the firsts" are the hardest, so now that Christmas is over, I guess I can say I survived another "first."  Actually, I found the weeks leading up to it, and the days following, to be more difficult than the actual day itself. I found the pre-holiday frenzy, with all the talk about cards and gifts and holiday entertaining, somewhat stressful, probably because I wasn't participating in any of it. That really should have been a good thing—I think I've done my share of complaining about the commercialization of Christmas in the past—but I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing out on something.


Because all four of my "kids" were planning to fly down to spend Christmas with me, we decided to forgo gift giving, so there were no presents to buy. I did intend to send cards this year—something I hadn't done last year because of Art's illness—and even got the cards I'd purchased in a post-holiday sale two years ago out of storage. But in the end, I couldn't bring myself to do it. That turned out to be the most difficult part of the holidays for me. As cards began to arrive in the mail, too many of them were addressed to "Mr. and Mrs.," a painful reminder that there were many friends from our past lives, friends we only communicate with during the holidays, who did not know that Art had died; and, because I didn't send cards last Christmas, many of them didn't even know he'd been ill. Before another year goes by, I know I need to communicate with these friends, all of whom Art and i cared about even though we didn't communicate regularly. That is my New Year's resolution. 


Thanks to my wonderful adult children and their significant others, and my sister and brother-in-law, Christmas eve and Christmas Day were filled with good food, good company, and an abundance of love. To honor Art, we put candles in empty red wine bottles, and felt his presence. There were tears, of course, but there was more laughter than tears. And that is just the way Art would have wanted it.