Monday, December 17, 2012



I dreamed of him last night. For the first time in months and months, I dreamed about him and remembered it.

When I woke up I had the vague feeling that he'd made an appearance and then I couldn't quite remember actually seeing him in the dream. It was like he was there, but only as a presence, just outside of my peripheral vision.

Not a ghost. Not back from the dead. It wasn't a dream where I know he has died and I'm trying to figure out how it is that he's back.

It was a dream in which he was alive and with me, but I couldn't SEE him. Or I don't remember seeing him and this drives me insane. I want desperately to see him again, even it's only a dream Dave.

We were on a group tour of some sort of facility. Maybe a college campus building, I'm not sure. The building was like a maze and the deeper we were led into it the more lost I got, but I knew he'd help us find our way back out again or if not, at least we'd be lost together. Everything would be okay as long as we were together.

At some point, though, the tour disbanded and I suddenly realized Dave was gone, too. I had lost him in the maze and had no idea how to get back to our car or even how to get out of the building. I couldn't even remember where we were in relation to our home.

I was vaguely worried at first, and tried to text him and call him, but my phone was suddenly and inexplicably not my phone. All my contacts were gone, it wouldn't work properly, I didn't know what number to dial, it was malfunctioning and on and on and on, my concern and frustration growing. Hours passed and I could do nothing but continue to try to reach him but I made no progress. The overall feeling was that I would never find my way home again if I couldn't find him. I wasn't terrified so much as worried, lost and confused. At some point I realized that he was never coming back and that's when I woke up.

Later today, I remembered what proceeded that tour on which he disappeared. We'd moved into a little house on the ocean and it was more beautiful, peaceful and calming than I can describe. I was overjoyed to be starting a new life with him by the sea in our perfect little house all filled with light and views of the ocean.

It's not too tough to decode this one. Life is in order, beautiful, comforting and full of loveliness until I lose this man and then I'm lost. Can't find my way back home.

Externally, this isn't a true assessment of my life now. I'm finding my way, slowly but surely. I'm fighting to make a future for myself that both of us would be proud of. My life did not completely disintegrate when he died, it just changed completely and is now a life I never imagined for myself.

But internally, I feel the before and after so acutely, still. The sense that something right, and true and golden was taken away and its absence has left me lost and unmoored. That with him was taken my sense of peace and love and home. He was my home.

Not that I don't ever feel or experience peace or beauty or love now, but they are on a much smaller scale than before and feel dulled by the pain of his absence. He loved me so much that it made me feel as though my life had a purpose and truly meant something. He has always been home for me. The home I searched for until I met him and then the home he embodied when he was alive.

I'm missing my home.

It falls on me to provide that for myself now, but that is a task I'm still not convinced I can do without him. His particular love for me isn't something I can ever find a replacement for and don't want to.

What the future brings, I don't know. I have hope and look forward to many things, yes. But my true home is gone. That's a big loss to process, much less heal from. I can imagine that I might one day feel a new sense of home, but it's hard to imagine now.

I don't have a choice though. I have to keep going, hoping that time (and more so, my own hard work) will bring me the healing I so long for. Hoping that I will one day feel at home again, somehow.

If he could, he'd beg me to find the courage to keep hoping for that day. That's enough to keep me going. I want to do right by him. But more than anything I miss feeling the way I did when he was by my side and I haven't wanted to admit it lately, but I still feel lost because he's not.


  1. The sense that something right, and true and golden was taken away and its absence has left me lost and unmoored. That with him was taken my sense of peace and love and home. He was my home."


  2. Thank you for these words. I have had a similar dream and can so deeply relate to having lost your home. I too found mine after a long and difficult search. It took me longer than it should have to have embrace how safe I was with him, but experience had taught me that the more you trust, the more you get hurt. But, having and knowing that safety made me so much more that I would ever have been without it. And, as I continue to long for it, the knowing of it keeps me going.

  3. How random that Dana was in my dream last night. I don't remember much except it involved decision making and my looking to him for a nod or gesture to know I was making the right choice. (Weird, since I had been making all the decisions for months). He wasn't nodding, he wasn't even acknowledging...

    " My life did not completely disintegrate when he died, it just changed completely and is now a life I never imagined for myself. "


  4. It's been a long, long time since I've dreamed of Maggie. But I remember the feeling that came with those few dreams. It's very distinctive. It's as though a cold, iron grip around my soul is suddenly loosened and in its place a radient love washes in. It's a relaxation and a breath of warm air like an unseasonably warm early spring day. It's very hard to explain yet it's very easy to get used to and then, when the dream ends, hard to say goodbye to... again.

  5. You bring to mind a thought I had a little over a year ago....It was only 8 months since I had lost my Marty and I found my thoughts wandering to "I will honor you by waiting for you to come home....uh, aren't coming home....well, if you aren't coming home, how will I find my way are HOME!" And then this led to a deep question to self, "How will I ever find my way home? and Where is home?" This conversation in my head occurred at the same time that I knew it was time to take my wedding ring off - an excruciating decision for me on so many levels and yet it was the right decision. I had left it on that long to honor him for when he came home; it was this day that I realized for sure that he wasn't.
    I now share very similar feelings to what you share, your words are perfect to describe how I feel. Thank you. Home........
    You write, "I'm missing my home; it falls on me to provide that for myself now..." And honestly, that fact and so many like it have caused me to be very tired. Life is so hard, and so tiring now. It's just all feeling like too much. I am hoping that this is secondary to the Christmas season upon us which makes each day hard to get through - like trudging through mud. Exhausting. Thank you again.

    1. Mjay,I'm at 7 1/2 mos. and despite my efforts, I'm still trying to find where and what Home really means to me...I'm still living in the Home that we built together 37 yrs. ago..One part of me wants to run away from it and the other part of me wants to hold on to it with all thats in me. I still wear my wedding ring not because I feel the need to honor my husband so much but because to remove it would mean I'd have to come to terms with the fact that he'll never be here with me again (at least physically). Not ready for that...I don't know how many of you are still living in the house you and your spouse bought together but its the one thing in my life that makes me feel he will always be a part of me and in a strange kind of way at Home with me.

      I so appreciate everyone on this site. It has been so very helpful to me. I know I have a long way to go but I honestly don't know what I would have done had I not found this support..May you all have a glorious and peaceful Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!!

    2. It took Marty and I 26 years of marriage to finally purchase our own home; such an exciting time for us; and then 4 years after we move in, he dies.....I have many questions why I am in a 4 bedroom, 3 bath home (does come in handy when my out of state kids come) but know full well that God was in charge of this purchase, this find, so I'm going with it. Besides that I LOVE our home and we were only here 4 years.....we were still working on his "man plans" for the basement workshop and the garage....Staying at this home, our home, makes sense for a couple reasons - I like it here and it brings me comfort; Its a nice piece of properly: and it's a testament to the work that Marty and I did to get out of significant debt. Besides that, it would be a big loss to sell right now. He had already put in place landscapers and put on a new roof and siding, so I'm in pretty good shape. There's still numerous things I need help on, but so far so good.
      Taking off one's wedding ring is another very personal choice. For me, it had become a false sense of security and was actually blocking me from moving forward and really believing Marty was dead and not coming home. I had only had my ring off one time in our almost 32 years together for a medical procedure. So so hard. I had it off for a week before I told my kids. I actually emailed them my journal entry from that day. I wanted them to know that I did not take my ring off to say "I'm available" and that it was for so many other reasons. I felt even more incomplete after taking off my ring. I find that I wear bracelets on my left wrist most days now.
      For the past year, I've been pondering getting a one word tattoo written in Marty's writing on the inside of my wrist.
      I agree with you about keeping your home. It has been important for me to move as I need to move and to stay as I need to stay. For instance, I was able to put the Christmas tree up (my adult son did it) but could not bear to have the ornaments on it - couldn't bear to go through that large box of memories so I didn't. I try to only move as I can. There is enough we have to do as widows without putting more on ourselves.
      Home - I like that age old saying - "home is where the heart is" and while my heart in so many ways stopped beating when Marty died, now in this second year, it has begun to beat, often in an irregular pattern, but beating nonetheless. Hate this. But everyday I tie up my shoelaces and start walking.