I don’t dream of him often anymore, but I dreamt of him early this morning.
We were doing what we loved together, fishing. For some reason, it wasn’t from a boat, but we were in some body of water where we had to swim around taking a special line and tackle and dangling it in front of the fish.
We became separated and fished a little on our own with our special tackle. There were others there and at one point, it became too crowded and we got out of the water and met up in this house where others were gathering. Dale had lost his special tackle, but I still had mine and he said, “I’ve found this great place to fish without anyone, it’s a cabin, let’s take your tackle and see what we can catch. We’d better hurry because it’s getting dark.”
As we started to leave, I went to grab my tackle and someone had taken it. “Let me go with you,” the man who had my tackle said.
I smiled at him, grabbed my tackle and line from him and told him, “We don’t play well with others,” and I looked at Dale and motioned, “He’s my weirdo.”
I woke up. It was 4 a.m. I laid there with that for awhile. I felt that familiar wave of grief coming on.
I miss my weirdo.
For those of us who have lost a partner or spouse – especially those of us who had been with them for a long time – we have that feeling. We each have a little “weirdo” in us. And our partners were the one person who got us. The one person who loved us – all of us unconditionally – accepting even our unique quirks.
It’s like we were a part of a two piece puzzle and they were the other piece that fit.
Maybe the dream has meaning and a message for me; maybe it’s just a mix of recent emotions and digesting the tamales I had for supper……
After and hour, I finally got up and turned on my music – my salvation – and finally cried.
Appropriate the first song I turned up was Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly,” the song I’ve claimed as my widow power ballad.
My thoughts then came back to my here and now, my reality, what I wanted and needed to accomplish for the day, plans for the weekend, which are still up in the air……
I’m a 1-piece puzzle now, it’s up to me to embrace my whole being, my heart, my inner weirdo.
Maybe that’s the lesson of the dream.
Living Large in Widowhood 