I dreamt about Sam last night. I hadn’t dreamt about him for a year, well not that I can remember anyway. I don’t often remember my dreams. I once asked him a question back in January on my birthday as I was drifting between sleep and awake, and I heard him answer inside my head…. like, I heard him in my thoughts, but it wasn’t my own thoughts if that makes sense. Anyway, around this time last year, just days after the funeral, I dreamt of him but it wasn’t like a dream. He was there. A visitation perhaps? No doubt actually. Since then though: nothing. Until this morning.
I have good days where sometimes my smile isn’t a fake ” hey I’m ok smile”. It’s genuine. I usually end up crying later that night because I feel guilty for feeling almost good in the moment. That’s just a normal part of grief. But yesterday work started off good. Around 5pm I got a message that I will be getting a copy of the findings from the Board of Inquiry into his death within the next few days. The military is good about doing this: they are sending the president who resided over the board to go over them with me in person. He lives almost 5000 kms away.
The findings, to me anyway, probably won’t tell me much more than I already know. But it finalizes it all. Ha….”finalizes”. As if this isn’t already final. To me, it will be like reading the autopsy report: which I never got and I doubt I could read it if I wanted to. It would only state the obvious : 31 year old male. Relatively healthy. A little overweight but not significant to cause health issues. Smoker. No substance abuse ( the coroner told me the day he died that there was a six pack of Corona on Sam’s counter with only two full bottles left in it – but that six pack with two full bottles had been there for the last month or so that I Facetimed with Sam). He was not a drinker. There might have been a little THC in his bloodstream. Cause of death : strangulation due to self inflicted hanging. I don’t need to read the autopsy. I already know. But the Board of Inquiry was conducted to see if the military hold any responsibility in his death, and to take away any points that may prevent another suicide from happening. ( suicide in the military is so prevalent lately. We lost another soldier just days ago). I don’t blame the military although there are situations that they contributed to, leading to his final mental health state. And I do feel that the psychiatrist and his casual prescribing of certain drugs without proper observation played a key role in Sams death. I hope…that is addressed. If not, I will be speaking to that and probably addressing the Board of Physcians and Surgeons of Ontario.
So anyway, long story short: I broke down in the bathroom at work and I couldn’t get my emotions under control so I left. And I called in sick today too.
Stupidly, I drove the motorcycle home from work: tears uncontrollably streaming down my face, riding the highway into the low setting sun. I may as well have been riding with my eyes closed. I’m surprised I made it home at all to be honest. Part of me didn’t care if I did.
I didn’t sleep well at all. Randy’s PTSD had rendered him useless for emotional support: he couldn’t even muster a hug. I went to bed with swollen eyes and a wicked headache from crying. I lay awake for hours. And then I slept. And awoke. And slept again. And awoke. It was a shitty sleep to say the least and I had to get up early for a peri-ondontist appointment (to find out that I have to have a root canal through an existing crown…yay…whatever).
But…. before I woke up for the last time this morning, I had a dream. Like most dreams, it was strange. We were at a resort type of place, and for some reason my daughter was there and she couldn’t breathe so I was panicking to find her epi pen. I found it and injected her to stop the anaphylaxis attack she was having, and then I was running through the corridors looking for what I’m not sure. But I went into this room and there was a young man with dark hair and I said ” do you know where Sam is?” He pointed to a door and told me he was in there. At that moment, Sam walked out smiling and I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him and told him not to disappear on me again. That hug lasted only long enough for me to wake up. But I woke up smiling. And then crying, but then smiling again. It felt so damned good to see his face.
All these months, I have gone to bed every night hoping and pleading with the Universe to let me see him; let me talk to him. But no dreams other than that first one. And now this.
I was in one of my darkest places last night but Sam showed up to help me out of it. I’m still struggling today: I’m in quite a funk actually. But, I got to see Sammy this morning. God I love that kid so much. If nothing else in this strange fucked up world: at least I was blessed with the four best children any mother could ever hope for. One day, we will all be together again. I hope for the 3 who still are on this side of the veil, that they will be here for many many more years to come. But I know that I don’t have many years left, and I’m good with that.
I just found this photo from about 13 years ago. Maybe it was why I dreamed of the hug. But I think the dream was much more.