Fuzzy memories ...

My internal hard drive blew last night - along with it a special memory of Bill.  Many nights, before seeking sleep, I would often take refuge in this very special moment we shared.  Like a soothing lullaby, this memory often erased the heaviness of grieving with the promise of a good night's sleep.

Yesterday was such a day, where I really did need the release by reliving this memory.  Living this special moment offers not only the visual of his handsome face but also the soothing sound of his cultured voice.  Much like the young woman who once relished in the anticipation of going out on a date with Bill, I propped up my pillows just right, having removed all of my technology from our bed, and I lay there willing this memory back.  It was there but the edges were fuzzy.  I moved the pillow at my side to cuddle in closer  hoping to gain better perspective and laid there waiting for the edges to become clearer.  Nothing.  All that came was the essence of this special moment; no details, no sound.  I groaned and tried again, repositioning myself for a better vantage point.  Nothing.  So I did what I do best these days, I sat up and had a conversation with Bill.  "You can't be serious!"  Still no response.

So I punched at my pillows, fashioning them for a bed made for one and did what I never did all of our married life ... I went to sleep angry with him. 

I woke up this morning with a smile on my face.  First good night's sleep in a couple of days and a realization that Bill is far too practical to have me living in the past. 

As I am sharing this, I realize that many will think that I have finally jumped off the edge; indeed, I have taken another leap of faith.  Be still my loving hearts for I have not gone mad.  I am simply coming to terms that in order to truly be in the present, I cannot rely on the past to sustain me.  I trust that this memory will return when I am ready to receive it as a gift and not a fix.