I had a dream about him.
He was in the hospital.
He was lost and confused and we were not at VGH – we were at a hospital somewhere else… on the 9th floor… and I kept trying to get the nurses that had looked after him in VGH to come and look after him where we were.
I had the kids with me – we met up with other people and other kids and I was carrying on with my vacation there.. finally stopped to look for work there because I knew we’d be at the hospital a long time and I wasn’t willing to leave him there alone.
But even though he couldn’t leave – even though he was stuck there – I was still carrying on with my life… I had to. For our kids, for myself.
I wonder if my brain is trying to tell me something… I wonder if he was trying to tell me something?
I don’t know.
I just know that the dream, the memory of the dream which feels incredibly like a real memory, makes me sad, makes me want to cry, makes me realize how much I miss him – not that I ever *really* forget…
Today we celebrate his 50th birthday. I’ve baked a cake, we’ll sing happy birthday, and we’ll remember him for all that he was.