If the wild-bird could speak
He'd tell of places you have been
He's been in my dreams
And he knows all the ways of the winds
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I feel much of the pain
As it begins
Dreams cover much time
Still they leave blind the will to begin
I searched for you there
And now look for you within
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I feel much of the pain
As it begins
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I feel much of the pain
As it begins
He'd tell of places you have been
He's been in my dreams
And he knows all the ways of the winds
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I feel much of the pain
As it begins
Dreams cover much time
Still they leave blind the will to begin
I searched for you there
And now look for you within
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I feel much of the pain
As it begins
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I feel much of the pain
As it begins
~"Polly," sung by Robert Plant & Allison Krauss
I had a dream about Nick the other night. We were riding bicycles in the sky over the wildfires in Malibu. We were holding hands. It felt so nice. I was telling him how I thought it was cool that he could ride his bike anywhere in the sky now. He agreed, saying that he was really happy to be able to do that. He told me that he loved spending time with me and also expressed happiness that I could share this time with him. I was surprised in the dream that Nick could be so verbally open and expressive; it wasn't something that he was able to do in his human life.
Two interesting thoughts:
1) I was at a conference in Pasadena the day Nick died - only a few hundred miles away. Coincidentally, I witnessed someone's death scene the same day that Nick left. A man at the conference suffered a heart-attack and died in front of the attendees. Although the conference resumed once the paramedics left, I felt shaken: I had not been at my father's death scene (he, too, died while working, as this man did) and had always wondered what that was like. The next morning I left the conference with the heaviness of life and death on my mind. I caught the Metro from Pasadena to Long Beach, rented a car, and drove up the coast to Malibu. I wanted to see the Pacific Coast Highway and Mulholland Drive.
sunset, Pacific Ocean, June 9, 2007
Mulholland Highway, Malibu, June 9, 2007
It was creepy up there, but really beautiful. Eerily quiet. I called Jason and spoke to him briefly as the fog rolled in from the ocean. He was working on music with Jake - another typical Friday night. I became a little worried as the roads became difficult to see from fog, and made my way back down to Huntington Beach to a friend's house. My heart was full in that valley. I remember thinking how hard it was to comprehend how big the world is, and how lucky I am to have encountered those I've met, and how grateful I am to love the people who are in my life. If you think about how many people there are in the world, it makes those you know especially important.
2) I've been thinking about the dream that I had the other night. I'm pretty sure we were holding hands because my mind is trying to understand the extent to which I cared about Nick. I wonder if we really were in Malibu in my dream, and I wonder to what extent he might have been with me, newly awakened only the day before, on my June 9 journey in Malibu. I will never know these things, but I know this: my grief process confirms the depth of my love for him.
I have mixed feelings about the next conference of SPR (Society for Prevention Research), which will be in San Francisco in early June, right around Nick's one year anniversary. I wonder if I will go to the Bridge. I wonder if I'll peer over the rail. I sometimes wish that my empathy for loved ones didn't cut so deep.
Huntington Beach, CA
