I had a dream the other night. My husband was driving the car, and we were on the highway, going the speed limit. The only problem was that we were going the wrong way and other cars were coming toward us, also at the speed limit. I remember the feeling of terror because I knew he wasn't drunk or in a medical state. He was "aware", yet he was taking us on this dangerous journey. I was also completely helpless: he was driving.
When I do dream about my husband, it's rarely a happy memory. It's often a new situation like this one. But, unusually for me, I wondered what this meant. God showed me how out of control I felt in the choices that made me a widow. (I acknowledge that suicide is not a rational choice made by a rational mind, but a reaction to deep pain and the result of mental illness). This was my life: going at full speed toward oncoming cars, and having absolutely no ability to stop it from happening.
Recently, my daughter was required to write a piece for a slam poetry competition at school. She chose to write about her own life - the life she had with her birth mother, being put in foster care, being adopted, her sister leaving the adoptive home and her dad dying from suicide. She chose to read her poem aloud to her classmates (all in grade 8 - aged 13 and 14), and some adults. Some people were tearful as they listened to her story.
So far, she has not shared it with me. She says that she doesn't want to make me cry because I lived through some of these things. However, I am so very proud of her for taking this step and working out her own collision course dream in her conscious world. For my daughter, especially, disclosing herself and revealing personal details to her peers has been near impossible. But as she has journeyed to more stability and security in her life, she has been able to open more and fear less.
Ironically, as I become more silent about my feelings and less apparently "grieving", she is now processing her own feelings about the many losses she has experienced.
This photo was taken in my husband's home town. It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to, and a place he loved deeply. Going there felt like a collision course for me. I anticipated a whole lot of emotion and a whole lot of tears, but when the time came, it was just fine.
In the four years since his death, I have stood in many places that were special to him and to both of us, and this ended up being no more significant than any other place. It just happened to be a lot farther away from my home! Although my daughter appreciated the significance of these places, they were not emotional touchpoints for her either.
And, while we're talking about it, I was really disturbed that none of my husband's family seemed to want to mention his name or tell us stories about him or really anything to do with him at all. I came away feeling like I am the only one who really holds him dear now, who remembers him or misses him. His family appears to be just living their lives.
Admittedly, his mother (who died from suicide about 20 years ago) would have been a different story.
Back to my dream: there is a subconscious need to continue to process the emotions that remain. In a few days it will be our wedding anniversary and once again he is not here to celebrate, nor is her here to participate in the loving relationship I miss so much. I don't ever want to stir up my feelings and make myself feel a certain way (either to increase or suppress emotion). It has to be authentic. But, at the same time, I am so aware that my life has moved on and so has everyone else's. There is nothing new or relevant I can say about my loss that anyone else would want to hear (or so I think).
But the Lord hears my cry. Every single one of them falls upon His ears and He has always kept me safe. That is my lifeline, my saving grace and my emotional satisfaction. The relationship I have with His presence is everything I need. I just need to be more in touch with the needs as they arise.
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