The Long Goodbye

Last night's episode of 'Alias' made me weep like a child. The focus of it was that Sydney had yet to say good-bye to Vaughn and start mourning his death. And it reminded me of the recurring dream I had about two years after Teddy died.

Teddy died in June 2001 and I was, for lack of a better word, destroyed. (It's hard to explain, but losing my second dad struck me harder than losing my first dad. I don't know if it was because I was so young when Daddy died or that I was mourning for both of them, but I was devestated.) I walked around with this huge, gaping wound that wouldn't heal. I would manage to hold it together at work, but once I got home, I would sit in the dark and cry. I cried every day for 18 months. I drank too much. I wanted that haziness, that numbness because for just an instant, it allowed me to not hurt so much. I was afraid that if I didn't feel sad, I wouldn't feel anything. I slept most weekends away. I was horribly depressed and didn't know how to find my way out. Everything suffered; my family, my friends, my state of mind. I was slowing losing myself and it had to stop.

One evening, I dug out the video from mom and Ted's wedding and made myself watch it. There my dad was, so full of life, love and humor. There was that smile always made his blue eyes shine. There was that look of pure happiness that my mom hasn't had since. There was the man I admired more than I ever thought possible. There were the Teddy hugs that I missed so much. There was my family; my family that would never be whole again. I cried the type of tears that come from the depths of your soul that night; the sounds I made were not human. I begged outloud for someone to make the last year and a half a horrible nightmare. I promised to be a better person. I wanted to trade places with him. I wanted to bring him back for my mom. I just wanted to feel that safe, nothing-could-ever-go-wrong feeling that Teddy could convey with a hand on your shoulder. And that's when I saw it. In the corner of the room, there was a quick sparkle of light and immediately, I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt Ted. I fell asleep and that's when I had the dream for the first time.

I'm standing at the top of a long driveway and a car is pulling away from me. I'm crying and start running after the car. As it gets close to the end of the drive, the car stops and Teddy gets out of the passenger side of the car and holds out his arms to me. I reach him and just cry and cry and cry on his shoulder. I keep telling him that he can't go, that it's not fair because I've already lost a daddy. He tells me that he doesn't want to, but he must. I won't let go of his hand as I say, "I'm not ready. Don't leave me. I can't do this. I can't!" He tells me that I have to do it. I have to tell him good-bye. In the dream, I couldn't say the words, so I woke up. I had this dream every night for two weeks. I always woke up at the same point to find that I had been crying in my sleep. Finally, one night, I said the words that I had been afraid of for so long. I finally said good-bye, and the dream continued. As I said the words, Teddy gave me a big smile and told me he'd see me again. Through my tears, I smiled back and told him he'd better. He got back into the car and it slowly disappeared down the drive.

That was the day I stopped mourning Teddy and started remembering him.