Wednesday's Woe - "Look What You Can't Have!" ~Tommy Prince

Wednesday's Woe

"Look What You Can't Have!"

~Tommy Prince

Just before awakening this morning, I dreamed about Merry Katherine… Cruel and inhuman punishment. It's like going to a funeral over… and over… and over.

In the middle of the dream, what happens is, I am felling a sense of well-being. This is the way life is supposed to be… She is here---at home where she is supposed to be---just getting her things organized.

There's an abruptness to it when I wake up. It's like we've talked about before on the blog ~ It's like going to the starting blocks over and over and over… Revisiting that whole thing of, "She really isn't here anymore." And because of that abruptness, it takes me several days just to get back to the functioning level.

One of the many things Merry Katherine and I had in common was a love of good music. In the dream, we were just going through some c.d.s --- I found one that was hers.  

"Here, do you want to listen to this?"  

A normal occurrence that was so refreshing because it was so normal. 

I awaken only to discover I'm thrown back to Square One.

It's as though, like cancer, my trauma and pain goes into remission temporarily, and then it comes back out ~ with a vengeance.

It's like a 

"Gotcha! Look what you can't have!"

Like with Angie…  

She sat down yesterday to have her coffee, and the house was empty. Peace and Quiet. And all of a sudden, the grief surfaces, and eight kleenexes later, she's in a pile, in touch with the abject reality of missing her baby, all over again. (That is the state she was in as she wrote the poem she  put in yesterday's blog post.)

Just now, as she's writing this post, her tears are flowing again; the kleenex come back out. The unbearable pain surfaces as she relives the normalcy of having our baby "back" even as she hears the details of my dream. 

Again, the gut-wrenching tears flow, as if, like a mine-drilling, it's like the "oil" gushes up from the heart of her soul, as her heart and soul dredge up a tiny portion of their pain. . .

It's time to go back to bed. 

Oh wait, now the bed is not a sanctuary for me… Lately, just trying to get rest is the source of my pain!

Whether it's sitting down to the quiet, or having the space in your life to have dreams, it seems our grief will "out"… one way or another. This is a snapshot of grief at six years…