I have not been making a whole lot of phone calls these days. As a matter of fact, most of the time, I have my phones turned off. Please forgive me if you have tried calling....I’ve not listened to any messages either. Right now, everything feels very difficult to do...It’s easier for me to write than it is to talk. Don’t worry, please. And please, please don’t take it personally. I’m not trying to shut everyone out. I’m just trying to conserve what little energy I have these days so that I can heal. I keep hearing Anthony telling me to be true to myself, so that’s what I’m doing.
That being said, I did make a phone call to a dear friend who is currently battling cancer. After catching up on how he’s been doing, we talked about how I’m doing. During the course of our conversation, he asked me if I’ve had any dreams yet.....dreams about Anthony. I told him I’ve been waiting. He said to keep asking Anthony to come through. He also said he’d be praying for me....praying that I can get some comfort.
When I hung up the phone, I cried. Really, really hard. And I got angry and frustrated and completely overwhelmed. I came over to my computer and typed this:
Anthony, I’m so angry that you’re gone! What the hell happened to all the things we were supposed to do? What happened to all the dreams we dreamed together? You dreamed my dreams with me and I dreamed yours. Why? Why did we have to be so damn happy dreaming? My dreams have all been shattered now that you’re gone because you were in every single one of them. It hurts to be a dreamer because, sometimes, people don’t understand us. So, without you, I don’t ever want to dream again.
What am I supposed to do, Anthony? Tell me, please. What am I supposed to do?
After I slammed my fingers against the keys for the short time it took me to type my outburst, I went to bed and cried and screamed until I exhausted myself. I finally fell asleep. Aaah.......Sleep...God’s natural anesthesia. Most of the time, when you’re sleeping, the real world melts away and you feel little, if any, connection to your life.
But not this time.
I found myself in a dream that was all too real and just as painful as being awake. What the heck? This was supposed to be my escape! But, there I was, standing in my backyard looking at the roses. Anthony and I carefully choose each rose bush when we re-landscaped our backyard together. We picked the most fragrant varieties so I could make rosewater from the petals. I helped Anthony dig each hole and plant each bush, but they were his babies...and, oh, how he loved them. Now, I can’t even bear to cut them because that’s what he used to do when the blooms were full...just the way they are today. With a grin as wide as his face, he’d carry in vases of sweet-scented blossoms and place them before me.
With the sweetness of lingering roses, my dream then took me to the front yard...our secret garden where the scent of citrus and lavender fill the air with an intoxicating aroma that’s invigorating and tranquilizing at the same time. There I was, dreaming in real time, once again, tears streaming down my face. And angry. With my fists turned upward and pounding at the sky, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, “Anthony! How I am supposed to do this by myself?! You have to help me, Anthony. I can’t do all this alone!”
In the weird way that dreams work, the very next instant, I was inside the house where Anthony was resting in bed. He was fully clothed and laying with his back to me. He looked robust, not sick at all. I assumed he was simply napping, so I went over to him and shook him gently. No response. I shook him a little harder. Still nothing. Finally, I began to shake him violently and pound my fists into him. Once again, I screamed, “Anthony! Anthony, wake up! Tell me, how am I supposed to do all this without you?” Over and over, screaming and hitting until, all at once his hand comes straight out of Heaven and grabs my hand...
...And holds on for dear life.
My eyes flew open and I gasped loudly, then held my breath. Could this really be happening? I closed my eyes again and held on to his hand as tightly as I could, wanting either to pull him back over to this side, or to let him pull me over to his. It didn’t matter (to me) which way it went. I kept telling myself, “Just don’t let go. Just don’t let go.” With a loud exhale, I started breathing again, fast and shallow. I could feel my heart pounding within my chest and in the temples of my head...loud, hard, and fast. And I could feel his hand, struggling to hold on to mine. I felt his fingers...how many times had I traced over every inch of his hands, especially when he was sick....how many times? Oh, I know those hands. Those fingers have coursed their way through my long and tangled tresses and down the sides of my face more times than I can count. Yes, that hand struggling to hold on to mine was Anthony’s hand, for sure. And it felt so incredibly, inexplicably amazing.
Now, I don’t know what kind of strength, what kind of energy it must take for a spirit soul to break through the veil and touch one of us mortal souls, but Anthony found a way to do it. He promised me that he would...that he would find a way, if there were a way...and he did. In my darkest hour of need, in my deepest despair, he found a way to break through and touch me to let me know he is still right here. I was wide awake with my eyes closed, savoring the sensation of his hand in mine. I can’t tell you how long it lasted...minutes at least...and then, it was like we both knew the time had come to let go, and so we did.
Anthony and I loved to dream in the real world. Oh, we’d weave the most interesting tales that would take us to far away places where one adventure was more exciting than the next. I haven’t done much daydreaming since he’s been gone, but I’ll tell you one thing....Every single time I put my head down on a pillow I pray for another dream just like the one I had when Anthony reached right out of Heaven just to hold my hand.
