My non-imaginary companion

Twenty-seven months after Sandy's death, I find I don't need this outlet quite as much. Though never happy about Sandy's passing, and certainly not accepting of it, I've kind of grown comfortable with our altered relationship.

She's still quick with a laugh, and she makes me laugh, too.

While her presence is less explicit than it was shortly after her death, and visitation dreams now come every couple of months instead of weekly, her overall presence is more constant, more subtle, and more dependable.

I'm startled sometimes to realize I've gone 24 hours, 48 hours, or longer without interacting with another living human being, aside from email. In the past, when I worked alone at home and Sandy was at Microsoft during the day, I'd go crazy if I didn't at least get to the grocery store or a bookstore, somewhere where I'd have chit-chat, normal social niceties, or run into a friend and have a true connection. Now, I may technically be alone all day, but I very rarely feel I'm alone. I talk to Sandy all day long, and I hear back from her, too.

As I said, it's not explicit. Her presence is companionable, and sometimes it's stronger than others. Mostly, I just know she's paying attention. Sometimes I know how she's responded, though the words weren't actually spoken. For example, when a friend emailed that she'd just broken off a long-term long-distance relationship, I was chatting to Sandy about it. I said, out loud, "It's amazing they made it as long as they did. I could never handle a long-distance relationship." And the response I got from Sandy was "You're in one right now." I didn't hear the words out loud, or even in my head. It was more that I knew they'd been said.

A few days ago, I was reading a blog about suspicionless surveillance and efforts to curtail it. I read the bit out loud and said something in agreement with the surveillance being horrific. I read it out loud specifically because privacy concerns had been so important to Sandy. But what I got from her, humorously, was the response that she doesn't suspect me and yet she watches me all the time now. Again, I didn't hear the words, but I knew the response came from her.

I have plenty of my own revelations, but Sandy's responses fall into my consciousness differently.  They're clearly her thoughts, not mine.

I've been taking a break from work for several months, and it's been restorative. I'm doing a lot of work on the house and garden, spending time with friends. Most important, though, I've dived into several community projects and workgroups that energize and inspire me. I feel like I'm catching my breath. I'm looking forward instead of backward so much. I'm excited about having solar modules installed on the roof in a few months, and finally getting the house retrofitted for earthquakes. I'm rearranging some of the garden beds, and revving up the compost bins. I'm comfortable changing and improving the home we created together.

In short, I'm living after feeling stalled. And I'm pretty sure I can do that precisely because I know Sandy's right here with me, hovering on some parallel plane, ready with wit and opinion and advice and, above all, love and support.