Beautifully Broken

I used to have this dream.... 
Two men stood before me. The one on the left had his hands stretched open.  His face was out of focus, almost grainy. He called to me but I couldn't hear his words. There was never any sound in this dream. He came into focus for just a moment, almost like my eyes were a camera lens I'd adjusted, and I could see his perfectly crooked smile. My stomach did a flip-flop and my heart burned. With his eyes and his arms stretched open he was beckoning to me. And somehow I knew, I felt, he was asking me to chose him. Meanwhile, the man on the left stood motionless. I felt helpless. How could I choose? The burning in my chest moved up my throat, until I felt as if I might choke. I gasped for air.

I'm awake.

I look over at the man on my left, my husband, who is peacefully sleeping. He is real, and he is here now, I tell myself. That was just a dream. But my mind is in an almost hangover like space from the dream. I feel sick, dizzy, and my concentration is hazy, thinking about the choice. Which man would I chose if I had too? The man on the right in my dream I know is Colton. My deceased husband who unexpectedly passed away in the fall of 2010.  There was no ugly divorce, no parting of ways, no ends to the "I love you's" he would whisper in my ear all those nights we lay tangled in sheets. We were husband and wife, young lovers, parents and confidants. That would never change. Until that day, that stupid regular day, when without any warning, it did change. "He's gone..." I heard the doctor say "He's... dead." I held his cold grey hand in the intensive care unit of the hospital as life support was unplugged and tears poured down my cheeks. I was all of the sudden drowning in the reality that my life as I knew it,

would never be the same. 

 From then I lived minute to minute, then slowly day to day, and eventually month to month. Only anchored to happiness by the two little people in my life who called me Mom. Who needed me. Who gave me purpose. I kept getting up each morning for them, I kept making sandwiches and giving bubble baths and going on walks for them. All the while a brave smile was on my lips, but just beneath the surface, an ache was throbbing deep within in my heart. I felt as if I would never find love again because who would want this mess that was me? I didn't even want it. 

Slowly, the seasons changed. The snow melted, and the sun warmed my face again. The hurt was always there, but it stung less and less. And then, he came into my life, the man on the left in the dream. He made me smile. A real smile. He made me laugh. Like the kind that makes your stomach hurt. I gained weight back that I had lost from being too sick with sorrow to eat. Color flushed to my cheeks again. He didn't care that I was broken, he loved all the pieces of me. He was patient. He helped me see there could be a future for me again. And I knew this to be true when one night specifically, he gave my son a bath and gently snuggled him in a towel and with a smile he asked me where his diapers were. I almost cried right then and there watching them because I knew he was the one. I knew I wasn't going to be alone anymore, because he was here now. And he loved me, but most importantly, he loved my fatherless kids. 

So... We married. 

And I thought somehow, if I re-married (I was only 21 when Colton died) that this new man would fill the void of the man I lost and I could finally "move on." That I could exchange my "widow" title for a "Dawson's wife" title and I would no longer be a member of the club that no one wants to be in. I could put all of the emotions of widowhood in an organized box wrapped tight with a bow and put it away, because now I was Dawson's wife and that somehow meant that I wasn't Colton's widow anymore. I was "moving on."

 And I can't deny, life was good. We moved away, started fresh, had more babies. Yet in the stillness of night, I kept being tormented by the dream. 

Colton and I never had a formal "goodbye." He was here one day, and literally gone the next. Which left my brain in a state of chaos with so many unanswered questions and two men in the shadows. 

Who would I choose?


Recently, being in a haze from the dream, I drove the familiar road to Colton's grave. It's rare that I get to be there, but when I do, I soak in the quiet clarity it brings. I sat on the cool grass next to his stone and watched as the sun dipped below the mountains. I spoke quietly, as tears began to glide down my cheeks. "Look how far we've come Colt. Look at where we are now" "You know I love you," I pleaded to the heavens, "Please, know that I love you." The sun dipped lower and I wiped tears away. I had to go. 

  Several days later, I had that dream again. About the choice. But this time both of the men stood still, the man on the right smiled softly, as did the man on the left.  I woke up and I could breath. I felt peace. I realized something that set my heart free. One love doesn't cancel out the love of another. Where there was deep love, there will also be deep loss. I didn't "move on," I moved forward. I can't forget Colton, or what we had. I can love and miss him for who he was to me: my puppy love, the father of two of my children, the one who made me stronger; and that love doesn't affect the love I have now for Dawson: the one who showed me the sun again, who gave me two more children, who makes me laugh and tells me I'm beautiful everyday. 


So it's not about a choice, because there is none. 

Love is unique. 

I am Dawson's wife AND Colton's widow. 

And I am beautifully broken...

xoxo,

Stace