The other night, J and E were away at their Dad’s for the week, and Jon was working late. I’d fallen asleep with both the little girls in our big bed. As I so often do when I slip into that interstitial, gauzy place between wakefulness & real sleep, I attempted a little DIY lucid dreaming – trying so hard to find my dead son and just “be” with him, even if only for a moment.
Only one or two times since Henry died have I had a dream where we were together in a very real and happy way. However, I do have many, many dreams all the time in which he’s drowning or unable to escape a burning house or – worst of all – trapped by evil people inside a nasty little house trailer full of barking dogs, on a back road, incapacitated by drugs, stripped naked and struggling for air, and I can’t find him and he can’t call out to his mama for help because he can’t even BREATHE.
These are the dreams I mostly have.
But there have been two instances since he died where he came to me in a dream without being in desperate, grasping fear or peril. One of those dreams was so wonderful that the memory of it has kept me afloat on some of the worst days. In it, he walked toward me, tall, smiling, healthy. His hair was curly and his brown eyes were sparkling and he just walked up to me and told me that everything was okay – that HE was okay – and then he reached out and gave me this big, wonderful hug that lasted a really long time.
During the hug we shared, I could absolutely feel every physical thing that made Henry himself when he was alive. He was so tall and lanky – I remember that in the dream I could even feel his backbone because he was all sinewy teenage boy. And I could smell him, and he hugged me back just as tightly, with complete joy and a sense of well being.
And then just as quickly as he’d come to me like that in that dream, he dissipated. He didn’t leave or move away. He just vanished. But I wasn’t sad so much as reassured. It was wonderful.
That particular dream has been something I’ve clung to, hoping maybe I could have one like it again, even once, instead of the awful ones that come so often.
So on many nights, as I fall asleep, I consciously try to conjure that dream back up – or one like it. I try to think as specifically as I can about every detail of Henry’s physical self – the way his hair curled near his ears and the way he walked and the little sardonic twist of his upper lip when he smiled. Those CRAZY long fingers and toes of his. – all of it.
And that’s what I was trying to do the other night in my halfway dreamlike, almost sleep state, alone in the house but for G and C asleep in the bed with me when someone came in the bedroom and seemed to move toward me. I thought, it’s him! He’s come home!
I actually cried out, “Henry! Henry!”. And I was paralyzed with fear, lying as still as I could so that he wouldn’t disappear instead of coming closer to talk to me and let me hug him again, like that other time.
And then Jon put his hand against my cheek, and I was so startled by the obviously physical human touch that I screamed out loud.
After I screamed and realized that my husband had come home and was standing next to the bed, I burst into tears, and I cried and cried because I’d been foolish enough to think that my son had come home to visit me in some otherworldly way.
Jon held me until I fell into a fitful sleep for the night. The next morning, I couldn’t recall anything about any dreams I might have had.
I'm not sure how you feel about this kind of thing, but if you are open to it, and can get a reputable and good recommendation to a medium, you might be able to get some peace. I have no doubt in my mind that Henry really, really does not want you to suffer in this way. Missing him and mourning his loss, and celebrating his life and legacy is one thing, but this is quite another.
Well, that just broke my heart. I know it won't, but I wish your pain would ease.
Matilda, you are absolutely correct. If there is one thing I know with no doubt and with every fiber of my being it is that He ey would NOT want me to be sad or suffer. He was an incredibly joyful, loving person who saw little use for mourning what was past or what could not be changed. And he love me and would never want me to hurt. But less than 18 months in to this (and having gone thru hell til those people were finally arrested, so that was a kind of secondary trauma) Id be a liar if I didn't tell you that I still have a great deal of painful stuff to get through. Like what I just described. I think everyone who knows me would tell you that I am functioning well, able to feel joy and be productive, etc Oma daily basis. But there is still a whole lot of pain, too. It hasn't been that long, so I think it's normal. Or at least that's what other bereaved parents tell me. – Katie
Please excuse the multiple typos in my comment above. Typing on iPhone – Katie
People process grief on different timelines so don't worry about whether you think you're taking a long or short time. Plus that whole ordeal with the Keystone cops didn't even allow you a quiet moment for more than a year. So like you said, it's normal; you're moving along at your own pace, and dreams & stuff are part of the package.
Agreeing with what others said about not feeling foolish too. You were half in and half out –no way you could have really known dream from reality when you were startled by your hubby.
That brought tears to my eyes. Beautifully written – I hope that Henry visits you more in peace.
He is with you. We don't understand though.
I'm not his mama, but sometimes I just know he's here. So, I know he's with you because he loves you more than anything or anyone.
I know it doesn't make YOU feel better (… or maybe it does …) but I have had several dreams about Henry. Mostly about getting to talk with him in a very casual way, and then being disappointed that I wasn't able to get in touch with you while I was with him so you could come, too. He is always healthy and smiling and happy to see me in these dreams. For what it's worth, I've never me you, or him, but I have a son, and Henry's story has lodged in my soul.
… sorry if it's weird … :-/
Cling to that good dream. I'm sure it was real and that he did visit you and hug you.
the ache and longing to hold, see, touch, smell our dead children is hard to describe, but you do it very eloquently katie. i believe we will see them again someday, somehow, and also that they are "with" us even now. But not physically, right? We miss their physical presence so much, and it is a hard truth that it could be years before we are reunited with them, actually I hope it is, because there is alot of life to live yet. And even though we know we can live on without their physical presence, it still hurts so damn much. (I just realized I am writing in the plural, I will stop now
Anyway, the manner of henry's death adds such an additional layer of pain/trauma to an already huge loss. It hasn't even been 18 months. You are functioning and living and working and finding joy some days. You are doing just fine.
Oh, I so hope that the good dreams will increase as time goes on and you continue your grieving process.
And be gentle with yourself, too. It wasn't foolish of you to think Henry was coming toward you, in your half-dream state. Not foolish at all.
I've heard it takes 1 to 5 years for those who have left our world to come back and visit. Give yourself time, Mama, and keep up the great work. You are allowed to feel a whole gamut of feelings. I'm sure he's always around you and the entire family. He had a lot of people to look after now. I'm sure you will (if not already) occasionally smell him, or hear his voice, or feel his love, and then as soon as you realize, poof, it's gone.
This just makes me so, so sad for you.
I understand yearning for Henry to visit you. My sister died 4 years ago and I want to see her in my dreams so much. Occasionally she's there but they are hardly ever happy dreams.
I have not personally visited a medium but a close friend who lost both of her parents and a half-brother has, and they all came through. She said there were things that no one would have ever, ever known spoken during the session. I really want to do it. Maybe in time, you can too and that can bring you a little smidge of peace.
Henry is always with you. He is in your heart and the love you have for him carries him with you always. I don't know for sure but I think that he is with you when you don't even realize. I hope so.
I didn't want to let this pass without commenting. This brought tears to my eye – what a powerful expression of your longing for your son. I'm so sorry that he is gone.
Katie, Years ago, my dad died unexpectedly. I was a young adult and he was still the most important male figure in my life. I was devastated.
A few years after he died, I had a dream remarkably similar to the good one you had with Henry. In my dream, my father (who had developed a sudden illness) was healthy and even turned a somersault to show me how good he felt. His message to me was "I'm OK, it's all OK." I can still feel the love from that dream if I think about it.
There have only been two times in my life where I've felt like I connected with the essence of things, and that was one of them. I have no doubt that your good dream with Henry is the truth and the bad dreams are your subconscious working through the very real anguish you felt for years before Henry actually died – you knew he was on a dangerous path and as his mother, you worried, felt it was your responsibility to save him, and are still working through the fact that your immense love for him could not overcome his circumstances. Good parents hold themselves to very high levels of accountability, even when things are out of our control. All the best to you, and thank you for sharing your personal journey.
This really made me cry for you and Henry… I'm also a mama myself, and while I know, I could never know your pain, imagining is heartbreaking.
Such a great thing having a wonderful partner in your husband and support from your extended family..peace to you Katie.
My mom's older brother died in a car crash when I was about 4 years old. Shortly after that, I began having medical problems and was eventually diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. My mom was understandably sad, there was little she could do for the pain and damage I was experiencing.
One night, for the first time since his death, she dreamed of my uncle. He told her he could only visit her once, and that he wanted her to stop being sad and make happy memories, because those are the only ones we get to keep once we get to heaven. She has not, that I am aware of, dreamed of him again in more than 25 years. It changed how she dealt with my illness, I think for the better.
My mom often tells tales that aren't totally true, so I'll admit that it's hard to say exactly how accurate the details of this story are, but your recounting of your dream of Henry makes me wonder… What if it's true? What if our loved ones who leave us get one chance to "come back" and give us a message?
I found this picture of grief especially heartbreaking. I as a reader (and mother) can only offer support and acknowledgement of the fact that you are heard as you navigate through these years without your precious Henry. Thinking of you…
Not foolish. Just hopeful.
Katie, I know you probably get asked this a lot but is there any way I could email you privately? My sister got killed in a car accident when I was 9. She was 16 and all the kids in the car were drinking (and therefore, according to the media, deserved to die). It is different circumstances than your loss of Henry but so many of the things you've dealt with, dreams you've had, things you bring up, are familiar to me. I've never had anyone to talk to that has went through it or understands what it's like.
Actually I sense that you are getting better. This is a sad story but it also sounds like progress in a strange way.
Or maybe it's your not being able to blog about the case and the people involved. I don't know but I just feel that the anvil you're carrying around is a little lighter.
My father had Parkinson's (with dementia) for many years. When he died my mother commented that it was taking some effort to replace his sick being with the healthy one in her mind. Now she says she only remembers his "before Parkinson" personality. Unfortunately since Henry was so young you don't want to erase five years of his life — that's just too big a chunk. There's a lot of work to be done here. I think the dream is very healthy and wanting to have it again is perfectly natural, but if thinking about it is uncomfortable better to replace the yearning with yoga breathing or or techniques that empty your mind.
Your husband is a saint BTW.
Katie – When I was in college in Durango, Co, 20 years ago, my boyfriend commited suicide when I broke up with him. Obviously, this shook my universe – so I went and saw the school counselor. He was sort of this wise older hippie guy and told me that when we lose someone we love, they will eventually come to us in a dream to tell us that they are okay. He went on to say that these are really not dreams, but our loved ones are ACTUALLY coming to us to reassure us that they are okay and to not worry about their well being in the after life. Over the years – I've had lots of people tell me that this has happened to them when a very close person dies. The counselor said it usually happens within a year of that person dying and that is is VERY much like real life – very tangible. I choose to believe him. I think Henry really did come to see his mama to comfort you – he wants you to know he is okay.
My grandparents raised me, and my grandfather died of cancer when I was a freshman in high school. Something similar happened to me a few months after he died. I was half asleep, and thought I heard someone coming through our gate – it was just the wind ringing the bell that hung from it – and woke up instantly feeling the most intense joy. My first thought was "Grandpa's home" and then of course I burst into tears.
The kid in the drive thru this morning had Henry's curly black hair, and I instantly thought of him. I know he is at peace, and certainly he is with you. As always, I wish you peace on this often painful path you're on.
You know, this made me think of a dream I had a couple of years ago. We lost my dad to cancer 4 years ago, his decline and death were very rapid.
At least a year after he died, I had this dream where we were together at a home I had not been in for many years. He had a sleeveless shirt on, and a tattoo on his arm (my father never had a tattoo to my knowledge, nor did he wear sleeveless shirts for that matter) which was a first name and numbers under it. I just remember being with him in that place, and carried the numbers in my head until work the next day when I could google them. They led to a bible passage that effectively said, he who believes in Me shall never die.
Oh Katie. I wish you could reach out and touch him whenever you need to… He *is* with you, even though you can't.
A friend of mine who lost her 6 year old son to cancer had exactly the same dream. Exactly. I'm sure it is not a coincidence.
Oh Katie my heart aches for you. I feel like you're finally allowing yourself to grieve now that Henry's murderers are in jail.
I hope your vivid dreams of Henry happy & healthy give you a little comfort.
I'm so glad that you had the happy dream of being with him and hugging him. I pray that you will have more of those.
I'm sending you a private message for when you have time.
I hope you have more of the peaceful visits. But maybe you only get one or two, as Henry moves on. I think the bad dreams are your guilt and helplessness manifest in your fears of those hours when Henry needed help. Try to let that go, you did everything you knew to do. Henry knew you loved him and that you would have saved him if you had known. Peace be with you. Mare
dear katie,
i had a particularly rough night last night. saw on Facebook that someone nick went to school with had a baby boy, and it reminded me again that nick will never get to do that, or any of the other great joys of life. my best friend shared this poem with me, maybe you have seen it before, i woke up this morning and she had emailed it. it comforted me. thought i would pass it on.
"And if I go while you're still here, know that I live on, vibrating to a different measure, behind a thin veil you cannot see through.
You will not see me so you must have faith.
I wait for the time when we soar together again, both aware of each other.
Until then, live your life to the fullest and when you need me, just whisper my name in your heart.
I will be there."
Emily Dickinson
Katie, this made me cry. I cannot imagine the journey that is this kind of grief. I only know that it is your journey and no one else can tell you how to navigate it or give you a timetable. However you go through it is just fine. Personally, I think you have done an amazing job given all of the circumstances. I can't understand the depth of your pain, but I hurt for you. I so hope your dreams include more hugs from Henry and some peace.
Katie-
I don't claim to be any kind of expert. But my immediate thought was that it does seem like this was a real visitation from Henry, even within a dream. A brief window into another world.
The good news is that Henry was happy, healthy, and whole. What any parent would want for a child.
He may be beyond your reach right now, but I hope you find some peace in realizing that he is in a good (if inacessible) place.
I'm sorry about the bad dreams. I think that those are just regular old dreams. But I agree with another commenter who sees this as a step forward in your healing.
I'm just sorry that it has to be so painful.