Last night I caught a rerun of Message In A Bottle on television. I, like every other "chick" flick movie lover, have seen it before but not for some time now. As Mel Gibson was quoting the letter of apology to his Catherine something deep inside of me responded.
A couple of months ago my therapist confounded me by stating she felt I was feeling guilty about my husband dying. I have pushed that statement to the back of mind many times, choosing not to deal with it. Feeling that everyone must have some guilt when a loved one dies. I should have, I meant to, if I had only, I wish.
I want a man in my life. Now that sometimes makes me feel like a cheater. So this is one place where I often speak to Matthew, asking his direction, his "permission" if you will. Never getting a clear response I have felt at odds. Never feeling it's okay with him. Telling myself and everyone else telling me he would want me to be happy, but never quite believing it.
So as the movie was ending I got on to Facebook and wrote Matthew a letter. Just a short letter of apology. Not detailed, just simply and to the point. At the end I did ask for his assistance. I was so not prepared for a reply, especially as swiftly as the answer came.
In the very wee hours of the morning I had a vivid dream. I must tell you I very rarely remember a dream, but this one was so real it will be hard to forget. As the dream began I was in the hospital room where my dear husband passed away. He was on the ventilator and we were prepared for him to die. Only he didn't. The next thing I knew I was learning to care for his breathing site, to clean the machine to reinsert the tubing. He said nothing, but his eyes watched my every move. I focused on learning what medicines he was to take and when. I had a chart that had to be maintained that showed everything I did for him. It was very detailed, every time I touched him it had to be written down.
Suddenly we were at home. We had a hospital bed in a large room with shelves that housed all the things we needed to care for him. I was attempting to give him a bath and he was so angry with me. He kept crying and trying to push me away and bite me. He reminded me of a child throwing a huge fit. Next I was massaging his legs and he called me horrid names and told me not to touch him. The words were coming from his mouth but the voice didn't belong to him.
The next scene was outside on a sunny day. We were just sitting enjoying the moment, he was actually smiling. A family passing by called out to us to wish us a good day. He was sitting in a wheel chair and tears began to stream down his face. I went to his side and he placed his hand over mine. He didn't speak in words, rather in thoughts. His heart spoke to mine. "See what I saved you from?"
With those words I know that my husband left this world with my well being in his heart. He set me free to love another day. He is not angry with me for anything I ever did or didn't do. He was not that kind of man. He is still watching over me, helping me in ways that only I will understand. He has given me the freedom to take the steps necessary for me to finish living my life without guilt, without the what if's and the if only's. He set me free to love to again, to live again.
Matthew thank you. Such small simple words. You are safe in the corners of my heart. You will forever be loved.
