I’m having a recurring dream lately.

In it, I keep calling Gregory on the phone, but he doesn’t pick up. Everyone I encounter in the dream asks me what’s wrong and I just keep saying “he won’t answer, he won’t answer.”

Tears stream down my face, but I don’t make a sound. It’s a very weird scene, and it seems more like a fleeting “sleep thought” than an actual nightmare. It doesn’t seem to last long, like dreams often do.

When I wake up, I’m not crying, but I remember the sequence. And this morning, I swear I heard a phone ring right before I jolted awake. But no phones here made a sound.

There’s a Jimmy Buffett song called “If The Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.“

I think this paragraph pretty much sums it up for me….

I’ve had good days and bad days And goin’ half mad days I try to let go but you’re still on my mind I’ve lost all the old ways I’m searchin’ for new plays Puttin’ it all on the line

Searching for new plays, lost all the old ways. That’s for sure.

The thought of the dream doesn’t make me wail and weep , but it does makes me sad in a deep place in my heart. It makes me wish for what was, when he was as close as a phone call. When I thought we had it all ahead of us. Before the worst.

Strange how you can go through some days basking in the sun, but when the darkness comes, it comes for you hard.

Even though there is more sunshine now than darkness, it still hurts. It’s still scary and sad, every day.

But, I gotta keep putting it all on the line. I’m here, he’s not.

As he would tell me, gotta “Keep on truckin’ baby.”

Somedays I wish the road wasn’t quite so rough.

Time has been weighing on my mind in strange ways lately. Maybe because the death-aversary is looming and I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with it, again. Right now it’s coming too fast. But some days, I have all the time in the world, and then on others I feel like if I just had one more minute, another hour, I could accomplish so much and maybe hold off time, if only for a few moments. Some days I beg time to slow down, and other days I plead with it to hurry and go by so the next good thing will get here faster.

Then there are the days when I cannot believe time and the tricks it plays on us all.

So much time has passed since the last time I felt him, saw his smile, heard his voice calling my name.

So much time since this, the first picture together ….

Since this…….

And this ….

Time fools me often. It seems like forever ago that I had a husband, I had a family. A whole one, not one desecrated by his death, my father’s cancer, and jealousy and greed for what was left behind. The next minute I swear I could reach out and touch it all. Could I? No, of course not. But time, it teases me. It plays with my head and my heart, then takes me along on it’s never-ending roller coaster ride. I’m so glad to be on this ride, but I so wish that I wasn’t in the car alone. And I wish that time is kind again, at least for a little while.

Time will tell me when it’s ready I guess.

Today’s the 20th. Also the 20th month since G died.

Every month I dreaded the 20th. Especially the first months. Then came the holidays, the anniversaries, the birthdays. They’ve come around again. Each month, on the 20th, I spend the day moping and feeling sorry for myself.

Not this month. Today I got up, walked the dogs, went to the gym, made groceries and was halfway home when I realized what day it was. Yesterday I knew it was the 20th. Today? It was just another day. Until I realized it. And when I did? I stopped and bought myself something happy.

And that’s how it’s gonna be from now on. I’m stopping my self imposed exile of good feelings and YAYs! on the 20th from here on out. It’s time. I’m still grieving. I still miss my husband. The actual day he died will still be hard as hell, as will the holidays and other moments when he should be here instead of wherever that magical place he’s supposed to be is. But part of moving on is moving forward and letting go of the things that weigh us down. That damn date on the calendar has done it long enough. The 20th is just another day. It’s my birthday day. Which obviously outweighs any sadness, doncha think?

So it’s been 20 months. From here on out, no more two oh woe.

It’s just another day in what I hope is a long string of days I got left. And by golly I’m gonna enjoy ‘em.

I hope you do too.

(P.S. Next I’m back to the 30 days of truth. Eventually. )