denial. shock. sad. pain. acceptance. anger. peace. repeat. repeat. repeat...

Monday, March 28, 2011

a black soul

I had a dream one night that Scott's soul literally came out from underneath me where I was sleeping. Where he died. The important piece of information is that the soul was black. I couldn't make sense of what this meant. Did it mean that I was letting him go? Did it mean that I hate sleeping in a place where he died?

I couldn't figure it out, until today in therapy. The black soul represents all the anger I have toward Scott for leaving me. Leaving me to live my life without him. Typically souls are beautiful and I remember very vividly that this was black. It was scary, it was dark.  I hope I was releasing my anger and that was a sign that I am no longer angry at him.

I want to find peace in him being gone. I would always lay in bed while he was still alive and say, "give me his pain. I can handle it way better than him." And, here we are. I am the one in pain, and he's at peace, or where he needs to be. He's where he's wanted to be, as hard as that is for me to say out loud.

Would I bring him back if I could and continue to see him suffer? No. I wouldn't. Call me cruel, call me whatever you want, but I know in my heart he's where he wants to be. No one saw him as sick as I did. No one has visions of him weighing less than 100 pounds, helping him use the bathroom and getting him out of the bath, or fainting when he got up. No one saw what I saw. It was ugly. It was heart breaking.

Should he have died from this? No. And knowing he was getting better, it's still a huge fucking shock.

I struggle with if he knew he was dying. I wish we could've talked about it more. I don't know what I think anymore. He told me he wanted to get better. He was getting better on some days. But deep down, I don't know if he was just going through the motions or what. I will never know. I just know that what I witnessed was extremely hard on both me and him. He is no longer in pain or suffering, and I always said that I would rather it be me. I was always the stronger one.

As much as I hate how I feel, I'm glad he's not sick anymore. I miss him. The real him. Not the sick him. I miss his love. I loved him more than anything in this world. A love that I never knew existed.

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