Those of you that have been reading my articles for the past few years, probably will remember that I am a widow. My husband of 46 years died September 21, 2009, from lung cancer. Yes, he was a smoker, or was for 30 years of his life. He gave it up for 34 years but it was still the cause of death. Whether it was caused by his smoking or living in Los Angeles for the first 39 years of his life, or working in a school where he helped install the asbestos in the ceiling so it could open on time we will never know. And the reasons for his death are not germane to this article.
If you have been reading my articles in the past year, you are aware that I have joined several (5) on-line dating sites and even though my “dates” have been less than satisfactory, it is giving me fodder for the articles I write for the OBRag and SDFP. (After the reporting of this article, I might have to be careful whom I date and where!)
I’m not looking for a replacement for Bob; rather I am looking to open another compartment next to my heart for another love. I must reiterate that I miss my husband Bob intensely. I have gone with members of my support groups to mediums, mystics, fortune tellers, guru’s, etc. to try and make some “contact” with Bob without any success. Other members of my group have had great success in talking to their loved ones, but not me. As a true cynic, it has been very difficult to accept the reaction I see happening to my friend’s ,and yet I cannot deny it because I am there and see and hear the results myself.
Today when I received a phone call from my friend “Jaimie” – the former colleague of mine that gave me a bidet for Christmas – my reaction was anything but serene. This is an account of our conversation.
Jaimie called me this afternoon. She is the former teacher of mine that drove our Golden Retriever “Pal” to Maine because she didn’t want him to have to fly in the hold of an airplane during the hot September month. Three thousand miles she drove, stopping at places like Niagara Falls, Boston, etc.
She called to tell me she had a dream – not a “Martin Luther King” dream, but a dream that had as much meaning to her – and subsequently to me – as MLK’s dream.
She had a dream about Bob last night. My Bob.
They were in his office and he was making music boxes out of conch shells. She said, “I knew that you made music boxes out of manzanita and driftwood. Did you make them out of shells too?”
That was the main focus of our business – O’Curry’s Musical Seashells. We made music boxes out of 18 different kinds of shells. The Manzanita and driftwood music boxes were only secondary to the original seashell. Blew us both away because there she was, with Bob and Pal, making seashells in Bob’s office. She didn’t even know that we made our living from the shells for over 10 years.
She said, in her dream, he told her to call me right then and there – 2:00am – and tell me he is always with me. When Buddy and I go for a walk, he and Pal are right by my side. When Buddy wants to turn into an alley it is because that is where the two of them turned in and Bob is there calling his name. She asked Bob if she could wait for a decent hour to call and he said it was ok but not to forget. He told her that not a moment goes by when he is not at my side! He said we are of one “heart” and always together.
I think I cried for half an hour after we hung up.
The interesting thing about this “conversation” is that he has visited another one of my best friends – Mona – but has never “visited” me. Jaimie asked him why that was and he said, “because I am always with her.” And one more commonality – Mona, Jaimie and I all worked together at the San Diego Job Corps and when we moved to Maine so I could be the “Deputy Director of Penobscot Job Corps”, Mona was a 100 miles away at the Grafton Job Corps just inside of Boston.
There is not a day that goes by that I do not enter Bob’s office. It is the only way to get to the garage and my car. And there is not a day that goes by that I do not tell him where I am going, with whom, and how long I will be, just as I did every day he was alive. And I also tell him how much I love him and miss him.
I think it is all well and good that he visits my female friends. (I wonder if he has ever visited any of his male friends?) And with the reading that I have done on the “reaching across the worlds” I have trouble refuting these occurrences – I want to so badly – because so many people give credence to these happenings.
I don’t think I am losing my mind – after all, the conversations aren’t with me but with my friends. I just wish there were an explanation I could accept without all the questioning that follows it. Questions like Jaimie watching Bob make a music box out of a seashell, for example, when she had no idea how he even did it in the first place is mind boggling. Particularly when she could explain just the way he did it. I sure wish Bob would send me some answers. If he does, I will share them. (He’ll probably send the answers to my female friends, and, hopefully, they will relay them on to me. That Irishman is still playing games!)