He’s been on my mind lately – maybe because the 20th anniversary of his death is approaching. Maybe because he was my first love. Or perhaps because of the way our lives went with so many unresolved issues when he died. We were married for 23 years, from the time we were eighteen and twenty, until he passed away when he was forty-one. I wish I could say that they were glorious and happy years, but for all the joy we shared, much of our life together was interrupted by his despair, depression, fear of abandonment and rage due to the many psychological and medical issues he dealt with.
On the morning of May 27, 1992, he suffered a massive heart attack and died on our living room floor. Our then sixteen year old son was home alone with him and had the catastrophic experience of learning CPR from the 911 operator that took the emergency plea for help. To this day I wish I could thank that person for staying with him till the paramedics arrived. Two teams arrived to try unsuccessfully to revive him. The supervisor, who was there with the two teams, came back that evening after he was off duty just to make sure my son was ok. I cried and thanked him profusely for being so compassionate. Son is now thirty six and finally coming to terms with his dad’s death. Our nineteen year old daughter was staying over with her boyfriend when I made the life changing call from the hospital to her (after telling him under no circumstances to leave her side) to tell her that her father had not survived. She is now forty and, in spite of their troubled relationship, talks about him almost daily.
It was 1996 before I committed myself to another … and as part of that, he and I moved to a small town in the Eastern Sierras, about half an hour south of South Lake Tahoe to begin our life together. It was the first time I have not lived within minutes of my children.
Since he died, I have always had a problem with insomnia. One fall night in the mountains I awoke at about two a.m., and unable to fall back asleep, got up and read for a few hours. I remember going back to bed at about five a.m. That is when it happened.
I was in something that seemed like a train station – a building made of stone, dark and cold, but for what reason I did not understand. It was crowded and noisy, and I remember feeling like I had to get away from all the commotion so I walked down a hallway into an empty room. That’s when I saw him – standing at the end of the room.
I was startled and uncomfortable at seeing him –I knew he was dead. He walked toward me, but his image did not become any clearer. The room was cold and damp. Our conversation went something like this:
ME: Why are you here?
HIM: I wanted to see you again. I wanted to tell you that I know now that you will be ok and it’s time for me to go.
I had no idea what to say to him.
HIM: I have a present for you.
He reached out with a small white box.
ME: What is that?
HIM: Just a little something I wanted you to have.
ME: I can’t take it. I don’t want to take it. Please. (I was feeling very uncomfortable and anxious).
HIM: Alright – but I have one more request of you.
HIM: Will you make love to me? I miss making love to you.
I remember looking up at him – startled. Why was this happening? I started crying.
ME: I can’t. You’re not alive – I just can’t. No! Please don’t ask me.
HIM: I understand – I’ll go now – I just wanted to say I love you and I know you’re ok.
And with that he faded away. He had come to say goodbye – he was finally moving on to wherever his next journey was taking him.
I seemed to wake up, and realized that I was crying. My partner, lying beside me, woke up. Realizing that I was obviously shaken, he asked me what happened. I was telling him of my dream when our phone rang. It was my daughter calling from Sacramento – it was six a.m. exactly. She told me something had awakened her and something told her to call me and make sure I was ok. I started crying even more as I told her my story.
I don’t know that I believed the dead come back and talk to us – and think I would have simply passed it off as nothing more than a vivid dream. But do we share our dreams telepathically with others? Was it a dream? Was it what it seemed to be? Why did my daughter connect with me that morning?
What do you think? Have you or someone you know or love had similar experiences? Please share with me.
Namaste ….. I honor you.