Still picking up the pieces

Grief, 22 months later.  I had a dream last night.

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I haven’t seen another person in four days.  I’ve been sick.  Flu, then weak and exhausted, not eating much and dragging myself around the house.  Missing my husband terribly.

I’m still pushing through the grief; I realize it’s been a constant effort, propping myself up with busyness – good busyness but busyness nonetheless.  Alone these last days of the year and the beginning of another with my defenses down I’ve felt again the full extent of my loss, right to my core.  That part of my life, the best part of my life, over. Gone. Not coming back. Final. Forever.  My mind and my heart are desolate without him and every bone and muscle is tense and sore from lack of his loving touch.  Just a touch.

Last night I dreamt I had taken over a small business.  Not sure what it was but there were open spaces – rooms, shelves to be filled. I have the sense of a garage though not the smells and clutter of one. My husband loved cars.   I was organizing things.

I can’t remember many other details but when I woke at 6 a.m. I remembered I’d had a dream and what lit up instantly in my head like a neon sign was “You’re the new owner.”

It seemed to say, “You can do this.”   “It’s an opportunity.”

I dozed again and when I roused a second time another part of the dream popped into my head, quickly and clearly.  My husband had been there.  But he hadn’t been himself; he’d felt sluggish and uncomfortable.

My first horrified fear was that I am holding him back.  Please, that can’t be true.  But I choose to believe it was simply symbolic, like the rest of the dream.   We are of two different worlds.  But he is still close, encouraging me.

All this to say, I know he is with me; I feel, and have felt, his presence often.  But I still ache for a touch.

Weekly photo challenge: Growth


25 thoughts on “Still picking up the pieces

  1. Sending you much love and virtual hugs, Lynne, as that’s all I can do from this distance. I feel the rawness of your loss and even knowing the rawness will pass and mute doesn’t help at this point. Surrounding yourself with family and friends and yes, that busyness, helps.

    Such a beautiful photo.



  2. I’m at a loss for words. Your honest sharing touched me deeply. I can’t imagine going through what you have, but your sharing is good, for you, and for your readers. So, thank you and keep your head up and look forward in promise.


  3. I think you have to tell yourself “the best is yet to be”. You have no way to forecast what is going to happen, but you have the biggest role in making it happen.

    As for dreams, there is a much more practical explanation. You need to dream, for the brain gets huge amounts of information during the day, and a lot of it is not immediately useful or necessary. So that just clutters up the short term memory. Overnight, while the wakeful part of the brain is shut down, the other part sorts through all the stuff that was left over from the previous day, looking at it and deciding where to file it. Most of it gets discarded. There is only so much room on your hard drive, and you need to run a cleaner over it every so often. The bits of the dream you recall are the ones that got attached to something your unconscious thought you might need.


  4. Oh, darlin! When your defences are down… Christmas isn’t wonderful for everyone, is it? I hope when you’re well again you can get back to your busyness. Some day, Lynne, I hope it won’t hurt so much.


  5. Be strong my friend; you will find happiness again. It will never be the same but it the heaviness will lift. Hope you are feeling better; wish I could pop in to keep you company. Love you


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