Thinking of you

Dear Rocky,

It's been raining a lot lately; this current shower has been going on for what must be a full day now.

It reminded me of a dream I had about you the other day. I dreamt that I was out, taking a walk on our usual route, as I sometimes do these days -- alone. As I turned the corner, there you were staring back at me, relief written all over your face. You were so tired from walking (for what must be months now, if the chronology follows) and I cried as I took you into my arms and planted kisses all over your face. I carried you all the way home, and you buried your face between my pillows the way you always did -- I always wondered if that was because you wanted to warm your nose; I know my nose gets really cold in the early hours of the morning.

But that was like the time you got lost, remember? Must've been years ago now; I remember being in my JC uniform. It was raining then, too. I remember the three of us walking in the rain for about an hour; I cried the whole way, but we finally found you. It wasn't the first time that you'd run out because the gate had been left open, but it was the first time you couldn't find your way home. I don't know who was more worried (and relieved) then, you or us. Perhaps that was one of the early signs of your dulling senses, but we certainly never thought of it that way.

I miss you. These memories, they keep coming unannounced; I'm grateful for them, in ways that I can't explain. But I miss you -- they make me miss you more. And these days it does feel like you've lost your way again, and with all of my heart, I hope that you have truly found Home.

Goodnight, hon.

I love you.

***

Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he's had his leg off it is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he'll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has 'got over it'. But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.

-- A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis