Last night I dreamed Seth was alive. He simply showed up one day, and my dreamself felt angry and betrayed that he’d run away and forget about me for three years (four, in actuality.) He didn’t show any remorse, simply that he had his things he wanted to do, and now he was back for a while. My dreamself realized that I had had every reason to believe that he had died, but that somehow death and absence were the same thing.
All day today I felt that Seth could call me up, or show up at my door, and it would be a surprise, but not nearly the violation of reality and sanity that one might expect. Is this the residuum of a very real dream coloring my mind, or does it illustrate the possibility that, after the initial physical shock has passed of experiencing a loved one’s death, we continue to assume that that person still lives, albeit at distance enough to be missed? Part of my mind clearly accepts that Seth could still very well be in Japan, or at his Mom’s house, or drawing in April’s garage wearing a gorilla suit for warmth. What, then, did seeing his body in its coffin prove to me, if I still expect to run in to him again?
His funeral was supposed to be a farewell, but clearly I didn’t say goodbye. And I think I’m okay with that.