Chapter 35
Amy: I’ll See You In My Dreams
‘James?’ I cry out, stirring from sleep.
I look across the bed, expecting to see him there, but his side of the bed is empty.
I’m alone. Of course I’m alone. I’m always alone.
It’s just I had the most amazing dream last night.
It was so vivid, and detailed, and beautiful.
James was back here with me, and he held me so close, and…
well, I won’t bore you with the details.
But suffice to say, it was a fabulous dream.
My emotions are all over the place right now.
It’s like a bizarre blend of walking on cloud nine and a shockingly deep sadness that I must have been dreaming.
It’s so weird, it felt so real, like it was so much more than just a dream.
But, of course, it can’t have been. I know full well he’s been gone for months – seventeen months and ten days, in fact.
But I swear I could almost smell him, that smell I love so much, never bad even when he was sweaty from cycling, just masculine and alluring and James.
So, here I am alone with my dreams and my memories.
And the more I think about it, the more I’m feeling the loss of him.
The amazing dream has kind of hit me in the face with a vivid reminder of how much I’ve lost. It’s bizarre, isn’t it, but I think, despite how fabulous the dream was, today is going to be a tough one.
One of those days when little things seem huge, minor problems feel overwhelming.
People say the best way to get through tough times is to take it one day at a time.
But on really tough days, the best I can do is to take it one hour at a time, keeping going until enough hours have passed and I find I’ve finally made it to the end of the day.
It’s been five weeks since the dream and life has been feeling so empty lately with no wedding plans to work on.
I didn’t realise how much it had been taking my mind off things.
And now I really don’t know what to do. I’m struggling to get interested in anything.
I can’t keep seeing mediums all the time – I know Mark’s amazing, but he’s booked up months in advance, and besides, it wouldn’t be fair for me to book loads of appointments when hundreds of other people also want to have readings to connect with their loved ones in spirit.
I get so down about my failed attempts to reach James myself. If I can’t learn to connect with him direct, how can he possibly know I still love him, and that I don’t want anyone else, and that I will always be waiting for him, and that I desperately want him to wait for me?
I used to be a happy person, and sociable.
I always loved spending time with other people.
Even just tiny moments of chit-chat would brighten up my day.
You know what it’s like, the mini conversations you strike up with someone at the next table in a café, or with the courier at your door, or with the person at a checkout.
You know you may never see any of these people again, but somehow that brief interaction makes life a little sweeter.
Even ‘GB&C’ Fridays aren’t doing it for me recently.
That’s Gin, Beer and Cake, by the way – our end-of-the-week treat at work.
Every Friday at four o’clock it’s tools-down time and after drinks in the office, most people drift across to the pub over the road and make a bit of a night of it.
And often partners show up and join us through the course of the evening.
Friday evenings used to be great fun back in the day.
James would come along whenever he was around.
He was a really popular addition to the crowd because he was so easy to get along with, and funny and charming and everyone loved him.
I still tried to make the effort to go most Fridays, once I’d got back on my feet a bit, but I wouldn’t stay as long as I used to.
But lately I just find I haven’t got the will to go at all.
I feel so detached from everything. Like nothing really matters any longer.
To be perfectly honest, it’s hard enough trying to get out of bed in the mornings and drag myself into the office the days I’m not working from home, never mind spending extra time around people who are so buzzy.
I’ve not been up to the crem for ages either. I miss going, but it’s just too painful. I feel like I crumble when I go there. My lovely FFC friends have been leaving messages, and so has Gareth, and I know I need to return them, just as soon as I feel up to it.
Trouble is, I just don’t know how to handle this grief any more.
So I have to try to do something different.
Or just try to forget. Right now, I don’t seem to be able to shake off this cloud.
All I can think about is how much I miss James.
And how this missing him seems to be getting worse, not better.
Where’s it all going to end? How can I ever get over this?
I love Olive dearly, but I haven’t even been able to face going round to see her and Joe. She called yesterday to invite me over to supper.
‘I’m making Christmas fettuccine,’ she said, knowing full well that would normally tempt me to go just about anywhere to eat.
You’ve not heard of Christmas fettuccine?
Well, I’m guessing you’ve not watched the movie The Holiday then – in which case you should.
They don’t actually tell you in the movie what’s in it, but there’s an amazing fan fiction, or should I say fan cuisine recipe, online, and it’s totally delicious.
And I love to imagine it’s exactly what Kate Winslet and Jack Black eat as they attempt to console themselves over their disastrous love lives.
But last night even the prospect of Christmas fettuccine wasn’t enough to get me out of the house.
Elle’s now trying to persuade me to start dating again.
She and Paul discovered they have more than a love of dancing in common and they’re now officially a couple and getting on like a house on fire.
I’m really happy for them both. There’s not a huge age gap between them anyway, but what there is seems to have almost disappeared because he looks years younger, like the weight of the sorrow he’s been quietly carrying around with him all this time has finally been lifted from his shoulders.
I’m really glad to see them both so happy. But somehow I can’t translate that into my own life. So, I come up with excuse after excuse not to join her and Paul on a double-date.
‘I’ve got a big project on at work – maybe when that’s finished.
’ Or ‘The garden’s got really overgrown.
I’m going to have to spend all weekend getting it under control.
’ Or ‘Carol might call round for supper’ – even though I know full well she’s up to her eyeballs in WI activities, and is highly unlikely to turn up any time soon.
Becky’s been nagging me too, still eager to match me up with Simon.
‘Come on, Amy,’ she said, when she called round last night. ‘I bumped into Simon and he’s free on Friday. We can just go to the pub if you like.’
The thing is, I know I could go on a date, but I know I’ll never find anyone who can come close to replacing James in my heart.
So, what’s the point? In a strange way I feel like part of James is still here.
His things, my memories, the love I have for him are all still here – they’ve not gone anywhere – so there’s really not room in my heart for anyone else.
It’s still completely filled with James.