Here.

I have a hard time believing that the spirits of those who have passed are not walking beside us or, at the very least, peeking in on us and helping us during our dark moments.

Yesterday was a tough day for me. I knew that moving in with Jonathan would initiate a grief backdraft, and that I would need to remain alert and aware in order to navigate through the smoke, but all day yesterday I was suffocating, lost in the fog. Anxiety and panic from the past two weeks, my first two weeks sharing a home with Jonathan, collected within my mind and body, and I found myself crying, off and on, over my loneliness for Chris, and my anger over the differences between my interactions with him, and my interactions with Jonathan. Like I said, I knew it was coming. It was just a question of when.

Jonathan and I had dinner plans, last night, so although I fell apart all day (I worked from home), I knew from experience, that I would be able to pull myself together and enjoy my and Jonathan’s evening together.

During one of several breakdowns, yesterday, I spoke to Chris. “You have to help me. I need to stop crying over you. I can’t do this anymore. Please help me.”

Jonathan and I had a wonderful time at dinner. We talked, laughed, and shared our entrees, sans the growing pains of our past two weeks of figuring out where we fall together, as a couple living together. Not that we’ve had any problems, but moving in together for anyone, male or female, takes a fair amount of adjusting on each side in order to create a smooth and easy existence together. Being a person who panics when things don’t go as smoothly as I want them to, I have found that over the past two weeks, every time we hit a snag, I wanted to run back into Chris’ arms, again, to the safety of a time before I knew cancer.

After dinner, Jonathan and I went our separate ways within the confines of our home, fed our separate interests, and decided to turn in for the night. Even though I spent the day in turmoil over the events of the past almost six years, I went to sleep hoping I could hold on to exactly the way Jonathan and I got along all evening. It was perfect.

I fell asleep quickly for the first time since moving in, and I dreamed that Chris was dying and that we (?) were all waiting for the phone call to tell us (?) when to arrive at the hospital. I was primping, styling my hair so I could look beautiful for him. The call came. I went to the hospital. Chris died. My floodgates opened immediately and I cried just the way I cried when I was told he only had 4 days to live.

I can’t remember whether or not I actually woke up crying hysterically, or whether I dreamed that I woke up crying hysterically. Jonathan said he didn’t hear a thing.
I went back to sleep, and awoke a couple hours later feeling happy and free from grief.

I believe my Chris stepped in, as he always does when I really need him, and infiltrated my dreams in a symbolic attempt to kill himself for me, so I could experience the reality that he is gone and move past yesterday’s snag, which wasn’t the first snag, and which won’t be the last.

He’s here. He’s with me, and he helps me let go and move on. Today, I feel light and happy, and I can see my future possibilities.