Stephen and I started off in a long distance relationship when we were 16 back in high school. This meant the use of many phone cards because long distance bills across Alberta was a real thing and cell phones were non-existent. It makes me feel absolutely ancient to share that bit of information, but that was just the reality of long distance relationships back then.

I distinctly remember sneaking the home phone into my room when every one was asleep, turning down the volume of the ringer and waiting for his late night phone call. We would whisper the night away talking about our week, our dreams for the future, and anything in our little teenage hearts. Most of the time, those calls ended in the early morning with the sound of his steady breathing as he fell asleep.

There was a song by Boys II Men called, “Dreams” which he said was our song. He even put it on a CD for me when I went on a trip to the Philippines; yes you read that correctly, he had to find the song, make a playlist, burn it on a CD, mail that CD to me before I went on a trip (long distance after all). There was no dropbox or google play back then, it was a true labor of love. He had always said that even if we weren’t in the same city, he would always be in my dreams. He was as a real romantic incase you didn’t know, he just hid it really well.

I don’t remember a lot of my dreams, but since Stephen died, whenever I was going through a particularly rough patch, he would show up in my dreams. I am not certain about the science around the subconscious and dreaming but I do feel completely rested and at peace after a dream with Stephen in it.

The first time I had a dream about him was 40 days after his death. He danced with me like he used to in our living room and told me he was ok and not to worry and then he “died” the way I had hoped he would, peacefully, in my arms without any machines around him. I had thought that was his last “good bye.”

Then around his birthday, when I had found the strength to go through all of my posts during his last month with us, I was completely devastated. I could not fathom how such a strong man could be gone. That night he showed up again and gave me a hug. Another time, my smaller boys were asking for him to come home, he appeared again and listened to me talk about how much the kids missed him.

Most recently, curiosity got the best of me and I finally researched the trial drug they had last administered to him. Sure enough, I found out that one of the rare side effects was liver failure which would inevitably lead to rapid organ failure. After reading that, I felt that I had failed him by not doing the proper research. He was entering liver failure the week before we left for Mexico. The night I read about that, he showed up again and just as I told him that it was the trial drug that probably caused his heart failure he tells me he knows, and he smiles and holds me.

There is only one other dream I had of Stephen. It happened prior to our wedding day. I was dressed in white and a bunch of people were lined up on either side of a long stair case. I did not recognize anyone as I slowly ascended the stairs, but I felt the warmth and the joy surrounding me. At the top Stephen was there, he reached out his hand and smiled and said, “Welcome home.” Our wedding day was nothing like that; he didn’t wait for me at the altar, we had decided to walk down the aisle together. In retrospect, maybe that wasn’t a dream about our wedding day, maybe it is a dream of what lies beyond this life. If that is the case, my hope is that when I die, he along with a whole bunch of other saints will be there to welcome me home. And I hope I am worthy of such a reunion.