Cemetery

Most of my friends have dreamed of you. They tell me that in their dreams you are happy, smiling and funny. They wake comforted knowing that somehow, somewhere you are at peace.

I am not that lucky.

I have only had two dreams so far starring you and last night's really was awful.

I dreamt that you came home and just started on your day. Then we were in the restaurant together and for some reason your presence really bothered me. It finally dawned on me that you were supposed to be dead. I looked at you and said you killed yourself, you are not supposed to be here. You told me that you were fine and continued doing something.

I remember waiting around for a lot of the dream for you to die. I knew it was coming. I was just looking at you, following you around and waiting . . . Finally at some point you started to feel sick and I knew it was coming. Then I watched you die in front of me all over again. I saw your face the way it looked the very last day. I am haunted by that face.

I woke up so shaken that it took me a moment to realize I was in bed surrounded by our two children snuggling me and stealing the covers.

Your son woke with me and the first thing he said to me was – “Every time I say Daddy I start to cry.” So we laid in bed, he and I, crying softly, feeling the weight of the world all around us while your daughter just snored.

We got up and started our day. Another day without you. I had been trying to shake the dream all morning. It had left me feeling disturbed, nauseous and haunted. I feel a little better now that I wrote about it. I am sorry if I make anyone else upset. Sometimes being so personal can have its drawbacks.

I figured the day was grey and I was feeling out of sorts - the prefect day to take my first trip to the cemetery. I was wrong when I said I would be laughing the whole way. That didn't happen. I cried. I listened to REM's song “Everybody Hurts” which in hindsight was stupid because who doesn't cry when they hear that song on a good day.

I visited your mom and sister first. But I didn't stay long. I just couldn’t put off the inevitable anymore. I found your grave, just a pile of dirt now and sat down. It was the first time in a long time that I have really been alone. No kids, no phone, no friends – just the silence. It felt peaceful in an odd sort of way.

I cried and screamed and threw rocks into the dirt and cried and screamed at you some more. I am really glad no one was around. They would have thought I was insane. It was very, very quite except for my constant sobbing. Then I stopped crying, screaming and saying I was sorry.

Suddenly I found myself just talking to you out loud. I told you all the things you had missed this past month and all the things I had been wanting to tell you but couldn't. It was really therapeutic. I heard you laughing with me as I told you about the children. I heard you sigh when I complained about my mom. I heard your advice that you would be telling me if you were here. I asked you what you want written on your tombstone – I am thinking Led Zeppelin lyrics – but I am not sure. Then I just said goodbye and left. I didn’t cry on the trip home.

I don't know how soon I will be back. Maybe it will take another month. But I am glad that I went. It was as horrible as I envisioned and yet it was also very soothing. To sit quietly, uninterrupted and just talk to you. The lingering uneasiness of the nightmare disappeared as I left the cemetery, which helped to clear my head. I miss you so much and wish you would come to me in a nice way while I sleep.

Then it was back to reality and dealing with the rest of the day. I am still having a hard time with the children. They are just not listening to me, which is really nothing new. Maybe my patience is just worn super thin. I get no breaks at night – it is just me me me all the time going.

Suicide and death, I think sometimes I can deal with that. Parenting – this is the toughest of all . . .