I hate alarm clocks. Something so disturbing about being awakened by a technological noise. Beep, beep, beep, beep. When my brother moved in with me, my biggest complaint was his alarm clock. He would go away for the weekend, neglecting to turn the alarm off before he left so my Saturday mornings started with me racing up the stairs to turn the darned thing off.
I hate alarms so much I wake up, every day, before the alarm goes off. I’m not sure how my addled brain pulls this off but my alarm is set for 6 a.m. yet I regularly start stirring by 5:45 a.m. – just in time to turn the clock off. One might think a resolution would be as easy as tossing the clock in the trash but I worry that would result in a daily tardiness issue at work.
I think this is all Joe’s fault. He always woke up before me. He liked being the first one in the shower. He even liked being the first one at work. Weirdo. Anyway, his alarm was always set for 5:30. He would also wake up before the alarm, roll over, and turn it off. I would then wake up, but not open my eyes. I couldn’t help but wake up – Joe was 6’4″ tall. Tough to miss that much man stretching and making man noises in the bed next to you. I didn’t mind though as I would roll over and we would have a few snuggle moments before taking on the day. God I miss those moments.
Sometimes in those snuggle moments we would share our dreams. Well, frankly, I would share mine. He rarely dreamt or, if he did, he didn’t tell me about them. He wasn’t a great dream interpreter but I liked telling him about the dreams as something about telling them out loud would help me remember them. My friend, Vicky, is a really good dream interpreter. I think I am going to have to speak with her today.
I’ll have to do that as I finally… finally…. had a dream about Joe. It’s been two years and nine months and he finally showed up in my dreams. I read so many books and blogs of widows and so many of them describe how their husbands make these sort of appearances. Not my Joe. He was absent from my dreams. In fact, I cannot remember many, if any, dreams since he died. At least, not until last night.
We were at a cabin on a big, beautiful lake. I want to think it’s in the Adirondacks but I don’t think so – too populated. Joe looked great. Smiling, relaxed, even tan. He had purchased a cabin! The cabin was lovely. It was fully furnished and had a lot of rooms. And out on the lake there was a motor boat. Joe’s motor boat (apparently he was in quite the buying frenzy). In the quarter century Joe and I were together I don’t believe I ever saw him drive a motor boat — frankly, I don’t think I ever saw him in a motor boat- but last night he wasn’t just in the boat, he was driving it like a pro. And I wanted to go out on the lake with him so I asked him to hold on – I would be right out and we could go.
But when I went into the cabin I was distracted by two yellow cabins, smaller than our cabin but right across the yard. And there was my sister-in-law and her family, including Joe’s mother, moving into one of the cabins. I didn’t see his mom but I knew she was there as I was yelling for my daughter (who I also didn’t see) to run over and say “hi” to her Babci.
I was taking forever to get ready to go out on the boat with Joe but, unlike the live version, this Joe was patient and not concerned whatsoever by my fussing. It was taking so long as I had to find sun screen (I am possibly the whitest person on the planet – sun screen is essential to my existence) but I couldn’t find it. No worries. Joe said he would wait. And he did. Joe was smiling, relaxed, tan, stretched out on the boat as it rocked on the lake …. he was waiting for me. No worries. No hurry. He was going to wait for me.
Smiling. I take on the day. Late, as I lost the first draft of this, and had to start all over …. but that’s ok. Maybe it’s time to slow down a bit. Is that what this was about? Best call Vicky.