When October Goes

I had a dream about Lissa the other night. My dreams tend to be a jumble of images that make sense while I'm dreaming but refuse to coalesce into something coherent when I wake up.

The one thing I remember is that Lissa was there, but she could only stay for a brief time. I hugged her so tight and said, "I don't want you to go. I don't want to let go."

Each Sunday, my husband and I have what we call a Sunday Salon. I pose a couple of thought-provoking questions, and it's been interesting to learn more about each other and about ourselves.

During our Sunday Salon this past weekend, one question was "What is your Roman Empire?" (In other words, what's the thing that's currently an obsession for you.)

I said mine was grief.

Lissa's death was traumatic for me. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly, and she was gone before I could even say goodbye.

Not more than seven months later, I was presented with the idea of moving thousands of miles to a country I'd never even been to (Ireland). And then less than a year later, we moved.

That's a lot of upheaval and major life changes for someone who doesn't handle separation well. I was still processing Lissa's death and then had all of this other stress piled on top of me.

While I'm grateful we had the opportunity to move here, every day I spend here is hard for me. Lissa had a strong affinity for Ireland, and that's never far from my mind. I can't share any of this with her, and that makes my grief even worse.

If we had moved to any other country but Ireland, I think that the move still would've been difficult and still would've caused some grief, but it wouldn't have been tangled up with my Lissa grief.

I told my husband I need to figure out how to deal with this because it's killing me.

One of Lissa's favorite songs was When October Goes - Barry Manilow. So I play it now at the end of October, and I cry.

And when October goes

The same old dream appears

And you are in my arms

To share the happy years 

I turn my head away to hide The helpless tears Oh, how I hate to see October go