Last Friday I went out to run errands, and for a change I decided on a different grocery than my usual stop. Halfway there I realized I was driving the same route, and at the exact same time of day, that I had driven on many Friday afternoons in that time Before It Happened. We almost always met a friend for dinner on Fridays, and on those days when Jeff wasn't able to work from home he'd head straight for the restaurant after work, and I'd drive over on my own. For a moment I entertained the fantasy that if I drove to the restaurant as usual, and if I could hold the belief in my heart that this was just an an average Friday and I was just minutes away from seeing him, that I'd pull into the lot and he'd be standing near the door, talking with his friend and waiting for me to arrive.
The restaurant is in the same parking lot as the grocery, so I did pull in as usual. But, of course, he wasn't there. It was a nice dream while it lasted.
His shoes are still in the living room. Not where he'd left them, I've moved them around as I've tried to tidy up, but I've never taken them out of the room. Likewise all the other little things he'd left in our cluttered space. Notepads. A motorcycle helmet that was sitting off to the side, waiting for cold weather to pass and the riding season to begin again. A couple of bottles of cologne that were left on the bookshelf. I squirt those into the air or onto a throw pillow now and then, just to smell them, and imagine that he might have just walked through.
I don't know why I haven't moved any of these things, or why it remains out of the question to consider doing so. I think it's related to that wish that if I follow a familiar routine without thinking, such as driving to the restaurant, that it will miraculously restore my life to how it was. If I leave things as they are it will leave open the possibility that this has been a dream, he might still come home, and I can't change things around too much because he'd be annoyed and have a hard time finding his things. Right?
Oh, I know I can't magically erase the past five months. Intellectually, I know he's gone. I understand that it's not a dream. But my heart still feels like it is a dream, and for now, while I am still trying to understand how to live in this strange and unpleasant new world, it's sometimes nice to imagine that I'm driving to meet him for dinner and he'll be there waiting. And I'll still leave his shoes over beside the window for a while longer.
My head tells me that doesn't matter how much I wish to see him again, I need to work on accepting that I will not. My head tells me that life really has changed.
My heart says that's just crazy talk and looks around for some coins to toss in the wishing well.
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