Beyond the Grave

Thank you, SM.

I’ve had a royally shit couple of weeks at work, and I was dreading today. I was perilously close to going AWOL and telling them all to stick it. The only reason I didn’t was because of you.

It felt so real. At work, the meeting room, in dress down because of the heat. You were purposely leaning towards my seat with your leg across my leg space. I sat down so that my leg touched yours, playing secret dangerous footsie like we used to. Then you leaned in and told me you still loved me.

My first reaction was extreme joy. Elation. Then I remembered that this couldn’t be real as you are dead. I told myself to enjoy it while it lasts. I don’t remember the rest of the dream.

I woke up feeling shite. Crap day ahead, and my dreams are taunting me. However, it dawned on me, whilst I brushed my teeth, that I could interpret this another way. A message from you to be strong;  that I can do this. And of course, that you still love me.

And so I got through today, thanks to you. It was shit but I did it by remembering your message. Please come again soon – although it hurt when reality hit, the good bit was worth it.

I love you, SM.  Until we meet again, x.

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Therapy

I worked some stuff out in therapy this week. I think a lot of where I am, anxieties etc, boil down to the fact that I mourn you like a partner. Which is what you were to me, affair and all. But being the Other Woman, I am not allowed to mourn you as such. I wanted to choose your funeral music. I wanted the final piece to be the Star Wars theme. I wanted to be up there at the front, openly grieving along with your family and friends. For fuck’s sake, I wanted to fucking go to your funeral! But instead I am shut off from the world, desperately trying to hold it all together, trying to mourn but not feeling that I am allowed to, wanting the world to understand but not wanting to upset anyone.

I told you I wouldn’t be able to go, or grieve properly. You brushed it off. Another “I told you so”, SM.