It happened last night in a waking dream.
The other day I was on a call about grief. In poetic prose, the speaker mentioned “hearing the beating of her heart.” She repeated that phrase at least three times.
I wonder. . . is the beating of our hearts a reminder?
Returning to her words, I am struck that it is important when in grief to remember that we are still alive, although our person is no longer living. We are miserable, but we are among the living.
As the poet was speaking, I asked myself how she could hear her beating heart as I’m not sure I’ve ever heard my own. I can “feel” my heart in my wrist. Her words made me wonder if she hears her heart or if it was a metaphor to explain an “awareness” of her beating heart.
The night after her talk I dreamed that I went under the covers and turned my head in a particular way and was listening to my heartbeat. Unsure if it was a dream, or a fluid story in my mind, I saw myself in a red room and as long as I held my head just right I distinctly heard my heart beating. The details were so real that when I fully awoke I thought it actually happened.
My beloved husband had a long journey with his heart throughout his 71 years. When he was just 39, he had his first heart attack and open heart surgery for a 90% blockage. Ten years later his heart required the exact same recipe to gain what it needed. Deja vu.
This morning I am wondering about what my dream means for me. In exploring deeper, I remember twice that I did feel / hear my heartbeat when I laid in bed during a very anxious time. The sensations of my heart alarmed me and I got up, did some stretches and flexing, after which my anxiety, and my heart, settled down.
My heartbeat reminds me that I am still here.
The closing photos on the movie, Titanic, show Rose living her best life after losing the life she hoped to live with Jack. Theirs was like a dream, only a month or more together; a dream urging her to allow her authentic self to take the lead in the rest of her life. No more arranged marriages; no more biting her tongue when feeling bullied by others. From the photos, it seemed she was on a mission: “What would Jack tell me I could do if only I tried?”
Promise me you’ll survive, Rose. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens. No matter how hopeless. —Jack to Rose on the Titanic
What does it mean for me to allow my authentic self to take the lead in the rest of my life?
At only two years out from my loss, I am not sure how to answer that question. In hindsight I realize the first year of widowhood I was in shock. Dan’s gift to me was authenticity; his super power. In year two, I want to hold authenticity before me as my guide.
In mysterious ways, I know in my heart that Dan is right here with me. I speak to him on the regular and ask him (he who knew me best) for his guidance.
Grateful for the time we had together, I want to remember the ways we challenged each other to grow. I want to take inspiration from those lessons.
My beating heart reminds me that I am still here.
What is one small step I can take to live fully this day?
