In My Dreams

Some days it aches so much worse.
The days where it blindsides me are the worst kind. It’s like, if I could just see the hole opening in my chest I might keep from falling in it.
But grief gives no notice. It just appears as an unwelcome pounding on the heart; tunnel vision focus that is all consuming.

When I see you in my dreams my heart is glad. I miss your face every day; walking down the street and seeing someone in jeans like you wore; with shoes in the unique shape of your sock-clad feet. We buried you that way, too. Your feet, covered in those socks. No shoes, that was your thing among many others.

But right before I dream of you, right as I lay my head down at night and release the day, the ache arrives. I feel it in the back of my throat; my chest; my entire gut. And I miss you to the point of breathlessness.

I try not to think of all you left behind. I focus on how brave you were to go ahead, not knowing what you would find, but going with a certainty amongst your fear, and I envy your courage.

I listen to that one song that makes me weep, and I weep. I let myself visit you in the musical place we shared. I hear the words sung back to my heart. I let the glory of the notes wash over my aching heart and it ministers to my soul.

You minister to me, even in your absence.

After 4 minutes and 21 seconds, the music fades out and I wipe the tears from my face, turn my pillow over to the dry side and close my eyes, hoping you’ll meet me again tonight, in my dreams.


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