Hiding Out In Asheville
I am holed up in a hotel with Sara, her puppy Scout, and Simon the bunny. Lily is with Shirley at her cabin. I understand now why people flee to hotels and lock themselves in after a personal tragedy. It’s quiet. No one can find you. Blackout curtains. Room service. Maid service. Free breakfast. Its a great place to mourn.
We’re sleeping late, taking turns waking up to deal with issues like phone calls and pets. Simon’s loose in the room and he’s making the most of it, hopping around and showing up in unexpected places. He’s litter trained so its not a big deal, just shocking to find a bunny sitting in the desk chair, looking like he’s waiting for a meeting.
I had a dream, it might have been last night, maybe this morning. I was driving with George in the mountains. We were lost. I kept looking at him for directions, and he would hold his hands up, shake his head, motion for me to watch the road. There were lots of signs and I was confused, sort of scared and anxious, but curious and excited too. Not too hard to figure that one out, is it?
So far in dreams George is there, but he isn’t saying much. He watches me. In life, our opinions on how to solve problems were very different, and it was a good thing, really. Together we made a whole, thoughtful person. He was cautious, I was bold. He liked to analyze, I followed my gut. He was a fabulous judge of character, I thought I was. He was a little paranoid, I was a bit prone to trust too easily. He kept me grounded, I helped him dream. It worked out well.
Now I have a lot of decisions to make without his balancing influence and its scary. I keep thinking, “I’ll call George,” every few minutes. It’s maddening. I’ve been an independent person since I was about ten. I’ve worked since I was 14. I liked it that way. My own money, my own life, my own adventures and my own mistakes. I haven’t regretted much. When George and I were together the first time, we stayed pretty separate. We didn’t live together. We spent tons of time together but we made our own decisions.
When we got back together, George was a different guy. He had grown up. He wanted to be together, and he talked to me about almost everything. When he held back I would ask questions. Sometimes he said, “You want to know my deepest, darkest secrets. My private thoughts.” Hell yes, I did! I told him mine. Over time, he told me his. I find a secret shared loses its power. So together we shined light on all of our weird thoughts, misguided actions, poor judgements. We got stronger. We got closer.
Watch it!
So now, I wish I had his guidance and his blessing while I make decisions here in Asheville for Lily and my future. It’s an overwhelming task and I don’t want to screw it up. I know he can’t talk to me literally, but I’m having imaginary conversations with him constantly. In dreams, he’s telling me to watch the road, keep alert. I’m trying.
If you ever saw Brokeback Mountain, you experienced, through the movie, a bit of the feeling I’m having now. At the end of the film, Heath Ledger’s character opens his closet door. Inside is his dead lover’s torn shirt, hung on a hanger with his own covering it. Above is a picture of the mountain where they fell in love for a lifetime. He stares at the shirts, the picture, and cries. The shirts, the picture, mean nothing to anyone else, and everything to him. Small tokens of a deep, unique connection to another person. The connection all of us long for and rarely find in this life where we are all so different and all so afraid to share our secrets and dreams. That scene absolutely broke my heart, and now I understand it better than I ever could have before.
George, I swear.
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{ 1 comment }
Lisa,
I still have a plaid flannel shirt, never have washed in 15 years, because he wore it and I smell him. Sounds sick but I will keep it forever, love him forever, and never wash it. It does not stink, it smells like him. We each have our own scent, I loved his smell. So I understand that thought, that picture, and his talking to you through dreams. Keep your mind wide open and you will be amazed at the way he will communicate.
When Casey died, my next door neighbor was pregnant. She went into a coma a month before she had her child. When she woke whe was frantic, she wanted Casey. She had 3 boys that were my son’s friends, and when I had to work late he would be next door eating dinner with his “black moma” and her boys. I got a call from “black moma’s” mother asking me to come to the hospital. When I arrived Julie, “black Moma” was still in ICU. She had asked for me. She told me that while she was “asleep” for a month, Casey was holding her hand telling her, “Don’t worry black Moma, your going to be alright, and so is your baby girl, and I love you.” She wanted me to know Casey was with her and she named her little girl Casey, after what she calls my son, her gardian angel.
Did this happen??? I don’t know!!! She was in a coma, for a month. She woke asking for MY SON!! Was he there??? I know he loved this woman, because for years when I was not home yet from work, she was his substitute Mother, and I never worried about my son when he was in her care. So, If I have an open mind, MY SON WAS WITH HER AND HER DAUGHTER!!!!
AND THERE IS LIFE AFTER DEATH!!!! Believe, and know George is with you and Lilli and LIVE!!!!
God Bless,
Sharon
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