17 Jan i got him back

Today I dreamed of him… I saw his face. I saw him smile at me. I spoke with him and soaked up the goodness of him.

I wanted to share him with the world, to tell everyone he was back. I spoke to a few people and kept repeating the same four words, “I got him back.” I was in awe. I was so happy and so in love. My baby boy. He came back.

I was looking at him knowing I didn’t have a hold on him. And I was so afraid.

In my dream, I felt true fear. I was walking on eggshells. I didn’t want to do anything wrong. I didn’t want him to leave because of me. I didn’t want to lose him… again. I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him out of my sight. I kept staring at him. I had a desperation in my expression. I’ve never seen my face like that. I wanted so desperately to hold him forever.

I was so full of Love, too. Fear and Love, both there. Looking at him, I could have melted into a pool of warm chocolate… Love. The cozy, sweet stuff. The deliciousness of my baby boy. Like the smell of an infant’s head. The comforting ripple of a warm bath. The weightlessness of floating, the heat of the sun, the delicious plumeria scent of the first moments of summer. That kind of Love. I got him back.  

We went on a road trip. I was driving my Grandma’s old, green Toyota Corolla. The one she drove when I was a kid. My Grandma was there and we laughed together. We looked at ‘our boy’ and marveled at how much Love could exist in and for one person. I was driving but I was in the back seat trying to reach the steering wheel. The front seat was in my way and I struggled to reach around it to keep a good grip on the steering wheel. Trying to drive and keep my people safe, staring at them the whole time. I couldn’t reach very well and… I was so afraid.

Fear like a cold, prickly sweat. Fear like a dark ominous cloud. Fear like the feeling of being hunted… like a fast approaching deadline, or forgetting the lines when you’re the star of a play. Fear like teeth falling out. Cold Fear. Pressing Fear. The threat only an arm’s length away. Don’t take him from me. Don’t come for him. Baby boy, don’t leave my sight. I want this to last forever. I got him back.

I was driving on treacherous roads and felt lost but I kept accelerating and trying to steer, pushing myself to find safer ground. The ground was like enormous, smooth, multicolored striped rocks – like the most beautiful river rocks – with water racing all around us. Sometimes the gap between rocks was too great and the car would plummet into the water as I struggled  frantically to get it to the other side. We were in oceans of water with huge rocks and no road. I remember hearing the car’s engine stall as the water choked it, and I floored it! I pressed the gas pedal so hard, determined we were going to make it. We did. I smiled at my favorite people. I saved us and we were okay.

I remember asking how I should tell everyone he was back. A friend called and I wanted to share the news but I didn’t want her to tell me it was impossible. I didn’t know if I should throw a party or keep it to myself. I got him back.

There was more. Details like where I saw him, who he was with, who I recognized in my dream… too much to share.

Dreams are like a beautiful poison. So sweet at first, then they threaten to kill you.

Waking up hurt so much. In the space between sleeping and waking is where I lost him again. Those tender feelings of Love slipped away and were replaced by the empty realization that he is not here. That he cannot return. That I cannot look at him anymore.

In my hotel, I cried again. That sad, lost cry that can never be comforted. There is no other sound like it. The sound of separation. The sound of Love tearing in half. The noise of Grief, of Loss, of Mourning. If you’ve never heard it, you wouldn’t recognize it. Mothers like me know. They recognize it because it sounds like their own.

We pray for dreams of our children knowing full well the exponential pain we will feel when the dream is over. We know, yet we beg for more.

Today, I got him back.

it’s just me…

The blog, It’s Just Me, is written by Holly Chamberlain, who makes a living as a regional sales manager for a global pharmaceutical company but makes a life by working with teenagers, teachers, and parents to redefine the criteria for who is ‘at risk’ for self-harm and suicide. She is the Founder of the aMasongrace Project and shares these core messages with students to offer hope, help build resilience, and improve self-esteem: Moments Pass, Please Stay, You Matter.

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