Sweet Dreams

11/19/09:

Last night I felt Clint’s presence. Four or five times, I woke and reached across the bed to touch him, take his arm and give it a little squeeze like I did when he was alive. The emptiness on the other side of the bed didn’t make me sad. His presence was there, and I continued to sleep and wake and reach to touch him. I wish I could learn again how to remember my dreams, because I know in my heart that they were good dreams, happy ones. For the first time since he died, I felt his strength.

When Honey woke me at 6:40, I was ready to get up and drink coffee and have a cigarette on the deck. I am strangely serene and peaceful, and for as long as it lasts, I intend to bask in it.

I think my therapist would refer to this as a breaktrhough, my finally beginning to accept Clint's death and the beginning the process of learning to live my life the best I can without him in it. We were always like a hand and a glove. He was the glove. I can’t just peel it off. I have to let it wear itself down to my flesh and allow time for me to heal and toughen up.

My decision not to “do The Holidays” this year was the right one. Clint would approve, want me to do what's best for me. I’ve relieved myself of all the pressure and stress, and, this morning, I began to make plans in my head to do the things I want to do.

I’m no fool. Every day won’t start out like this, and there will be tears and pitfalls and roadblocks and sad times and times when I’ll wonder how I can continue and times when I want to break things. But there will be these peaceful times, too.