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I know I've blogged about what a mess I was after Charlie passed away and how much I still miss him, but I'm not sure I told you about some of the truly crazy things I've done and thought since he's been gone.
Not long after he first passed away I had friends try to tell me that I should move. This was our home and there are memories of him everywhere. I was in pretty bad shape and they thought starting over in a new home without the old memories would be good for me. Maybe they were right, but I didn't want to hear what they were saying.
I told them that the housing market was too bad to try and move. I told them that I knew I was in a safe neighborhood and that was extra important to me since he was gone. I told them I liked being able to walk almost any place that I wanted to go. I told them that I liked living so close to all of them, that they were my support system and I needed them close.
I told them all of these things and many other things as well to explain why I thought moving was a bad idea. I told them all of those things, but the real reason I didn't (and still don't) want to move is that I'm afraid if I move and Charlie comes back, he won't be able to find me.
I know...he's gone...he's not coming back. I'm crazy.
You don't even want to know how long I slept with his picture under my pillow along with some old cards and letters from him because I thought it would help make me dream about him. It didn't work.
There was one dream after he had been gone for about a year. In the dream my friends were here and Charlie called me on the phone. The really weird part is that in the dream I knew he was dead. I knew he was dead and didn't want my friends to know that I was talking to him so I took the phone into the closet and sat in there talking to him.
When I woke up from that dream I was happy. I had heard the sound of his voice and I was happy. I knew it was only a dream, but I was happy.
There were no more dreams about him no matter how hard I wished for them.
When I was hospitalized with pneumonia in March, 2009 my doctors were really scared. They kept me there for 10 days. When they finally let me go home I got the full lecture about completing my antibiotics and keeping my follow-up appointments. They let me know that I had come very close to dying.
I completed the antibiotics and kept the doctor appointments. I was sick.....really, really sick. I knew the doctors believed that I had come close to dying, but I didn't believe them. I didn't think it was my time. I didn't think it was my time because I didn't feel Charlie's presence in the room. If it had truly been my time to go I believe that he would have come for me.
Crazy? Maybe, but I survived so I'm liking my theory.
Now it's been exactly 4 and a half years since Charlie passed away and for the last two nights I have actually seen him in my dreams.
In the first dream, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room and he was with me. I'm not sure why we were at the hospital, but we were happy and laughing so it couldn't have been that big of a deal. In the second dream, I was in some weird place and Charlie swam in from a pipe to get me. We were both happy in that dream too.
I've woken up happy both times.
So, my million dollar question is....Why now?
Why after all this time am I finally seeing him in my dreams? His picture and letters are no longer under my pillow and the flowery sheets that I used to torment him with haven't left the linen closet in a long, long time.
Does this mean that my poor heart has finally mended enough that I can dream of him and not fall completely apart?
Is it wrong that I just want to take some Tylenol PM, crawl into bed and wait for the dreams to begin?
Man, I would probably make some shrinks career!