T/W: Death
I have always been a vivid dreamer, I consider it a special gift.
Since Ty left, I have been especially grateful that I have this gift because it allows me to spend time with him. He visits me often while I’m sleeping. Always in a different stage of his life.
Sometimes he’s a toddler with a black eye from playing too hard.
Sometimes he’s a shaggy-haired teenager with a notoriously silly T Shirt.
Sometimes he’s a grown man talking to me about work.
I guess that’s the privilege of knowing someone from the moment they are born. You get to see every growth spurt…every life stage…every milestone…everything that makes them who they are.
Last night he was around the age in this picture. We were at an outdoor movie theatre watching a documentary about his life. And in true Tyler fashion, he couldn’t sit still to watch the whole thing. So he got up and started playing in the grass in front of us. My focus shifted from the movie to his presently playful self and I felt the joy that always came over me as a child when I witnessed him at play. Just knowing there was an untapped genius in that beautiful mind just filled me with pride and wonder. Every single time.
I watched him as he ran around in circles with his arms out wide, pretending to be an airplane. He zoomed around and around the patch of grass until he actually lifted off the ground and began to fly. I could hear his shriek of laughter as he realized he could zoom around the rest of us. I was instantly taken back to a place in my subconscious I haven’t visited in a long time. A place I spent my entire childhood, where my whole purpose in this world was to keep my little brothers safe. My protective mama-bear instincts kicked in as I yelled “don’t go too far!” But I knew it was no use. He was limitless now. He flew over to a nearby greenhouse and pulled back the clear plastic curtain to enter. Not before pausing to look back at me and smile. That mischievous grin and a sparkle in his eye that told me there was no point in arguing with him to stay on this side of the curtain, he was going in and he was going to be okay. I mouthed the words “please don’t” as he turned and flew into the greenhouse with the smile still on his face and the curtain closing behind him.
I woke up.
Not all of my dreams are this easy to translate, and there is often times a lot of depression to follow. Feelings of abandonment resurfacing from my early childhood. But still, I’m so grateful for the opportunity to keep that channel open for Tyler to reach me. To tell me he’s okay. To tell me he loves me. That he sees me for the role I played in his journey.
As time passes and I get further and further away from the initial shock of his passing, I actually get terrified that I will forget him. That as I grow old I will forget our bond we had as children, or I’ll forget what he looked like, or I’ll even forget the pain I feel now, in his absence. So I will take his visits in my dreams as long as I can and be grateful that I have this gift.
