Friday, November 6, 2015
truth behind a cliché
"So forget this cruel world where I belong. I'll just sit and wait and sing my song. And, if one day you should see me in the crowd, lend a hand and lift me to your place in the cloud" - Nick Drake "Cello Song"
I do not put any stock in the supernatural - except for the occasional entertainment value it provides in different FICTIONAL mediums. I don't believe in ghosts, or that Rob is sitting up in heaven looking down (that's just not Biblically accurate), or that people become guardian angels. This being the case, I'm not one to read too much into dreams either.
But, I had this dream the other night about some leftover issues I am having surrounding the anger and hurt I feel over what my daughter is going through. It was one of those dreams from which you wake and have to spend the first few minutes of foggy wakefulness assuring yourself that it didn't really happen. I 've had a hard time shaking the ugliness that went along with that dream. I started thinking about dreams and how weird and random they are. I was wondering why, why, why I had that dream and why I never dream about Rob, for good or bad. I've taken my generals and learned from psych 101 that most often you dream where your mind was before you went to sleep. Well, not lying, my mind is constantly on Rob - and not just the tragic ending, but on all the pieces that intertwined our life of more than 20 years together. I don't think that theory holds much truth. In some small way I guess I've thought the lack of dreams might be God protecting me, because I dwell enough already - if I had to have vivid dreams that stayed with me for days I don't know if I could function. But, this haunting dream from a few days ago got me wondering.
I *think* (in my uneducated opinion) it might have something to do with the whole "unresolvedness" surrounding certain situations for me. There was nothing left unsaid between my husband and me. Sure, there are things I wish I could tell him now, things I'd like to ask his opinion about, or just hear his voice on the other end of the phone line. Sure. But, it's different than having a nagging sensation of things left unfinished. I don't need any answers, and that peace is priceless. I've seen - all my life - so many, many, many of those meant-to-be uplifting sayings that encourage you to tell those around you that you love them because tomorrow is not promised. 'Say your sorry, express your concern, don't wait' ... so-much-so that we become desensitized to the real benefit behind such statements.
I'd like nothing more than to tell Rob that I love him one more time and to hear his voice reciprocate. But, the truth is, I don't really need that because I know that he knew and in return I know that I was so loved. We got to say things before it was too late. We weren't always so expressive, but Cancer makes you stare those things down.
And I can tell you that it matters.
It matters that my kids know, beyond anything, how loved they were by him. It matters they heard it in their father's voice and each have a letter that he wrote to them - it matters that it's not me assuring them. It makes a difference that I have a conclusion and no unanswered questions. I'm still messed up, but it could be worse -
It matters - those things we say to one another to help each other understand. Speaking love, or apologizing. It makes a difference - the comfort or the hurt that we can be. Those things matter. And, as cliche as you might think it is - tomorrow isn't promised.