Music of the Night

Music has always been a source of pleasure for me until last September. I couldn't listen to anything without a waterfall pouring down my face. I never realized how my whole life could be played out on the radio. Every song I heard reminded me of a time, place, event, feeling...whatever! And it didn't matter what station. It is amazing how music is like a fabric woven through everything we do. So I turned it OFF...all of it...completely. I drove in silence. I didn't want to remember.

So gradually I began to listen again. It's not so bad now. Lots of songs even make me smile when the memories come along. In fact, I find myself seeking out the stations that play the music that will trigger the memories. It is truly bizarre the way the human mind works. But I don't question - only observe. And I have decided to let things flow and happen however they need to. It's like a twilight zone episode sometimes. Part of me is existing in the past and then before I know it...I am here in the present.

Why does this happen??  I have been living in the present for years - someone dies and all of a sudden you have two separate lives. And all of the music, the pictures, the memories...they linger around and keep dragging you back into that other life. The one you had and somehow lost. Like dust in the wind...

Note to Self

Definitely do not begin to go through boxes of Christmas Decorations - with the intention of consolidating  - without alcoholic reinforcements

Dreams.....for Real?

I don't dream. period. I lay down my head, go to sleep and remember nothing until morning. It has been like that always. No nightmares, no knights in shining armour - nothing. Or at least, if I have, I don't ever recall them.

So what is with the dreams?? And why am I having them now? And why is my husband always in them in one way or another?? Thank God it's not every night....but at least once a week since last October I have been dreaming and I actually remember them. Sometimes they make complete sense and I recognize everyone and everything that is happening in them. And they are so REAL.  Other times they make absolutely no sense at all - or so it seems.

I have been hoping, ever since that terrible night last September, that he would connect with me in some way. Damn - I wouldn't even be afraid if he appeared to me. I just want to see him, talk to him. Somehow to know that it's not OVER for good. I just want to know that he isn't lonely or frightened. I want to know so many things - things that those of us that are left behind sadly will never know...sigh...until our time comes.

Maybe, just maybe, the dreams are his way of contacting me. He always knew that I never dreamed. We would laugh about how HIS nightmares would keep us both up at night. He had some terrible ones. They were always about people chasing him to do him some kind of harm. He was always trying to get away....and he finally succeeded.

So what to make of these dreams. Do I try to figure them out or just enjoy the times that we are spending together in my mind while I sleep..

First and Foremost

I'm not sure what I'm doing on this page. In fact, I'm not really sure of anything anymore. I have spent the last ten months trying to comprehend what happened to me and my family, why it happened and what we are supposed to do now. 

I buried my husband at the age of 62 - quite suddenly and with no warning. It is impossible to describe the feelings, emotions and questions that come sometimes in a torrent but often times as subtle as a gentle rain. Of course everyone understands the initial shock and the could of, should of, would of syndrome....but when that goes away what is left?

Life goes on...Yes - after a whirlwind adrenaline rush of doctors, hospitals, decisions and the total panic of choosing a casket, following a hearse and hearing the 'dust to dust' thing - life goes on...but never the same.

I suppose I could join a support group, see a therapist or even just ignore all the feelings and thoughts...but perhaps, if I can put it down in writing and see it all before me, I can begin to make some kind of sense out of it. It is so much bigger than life - this dying thing. And for those of us left behind it is a constant reminder of how short life really is.