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Writer's pictureAmy Baumgardner

It's all about the shoes

When I am in a place of clarity, peace, forgiveness, I dream of Scott. Not like a normal dream where shit is all weird, out of place, and confusing. This is more of hanging out. This is a place where we talk and catch up.


In my most recent dream, it felt as though he came back to life. I wasn’t nearly as surprised as you would think. He just showed up. I couldn’t wait to ask him all the questions about things I had made guesses about since he was gone. I told him he could live in the basement and he responded with a laugh, “finally.” This was a boundary I put up in our last few months together because I thought it would be an easier healing process if we physically were apart by at least 10 minutes. He always thought that was silly and a waste of money. I don’t know why that was the first thing I said to him. I reflect on it now because I wonder if I regret that choice.


I reminded him that didn’t mean that I wanted to get back together. I told him I was dating someone. He wasn’t angry. He understood. He came back with a calm and peaceful demeanor that was so complete that I didn't recognize it.


I said to him, “There is so much to catch you up on. Would you like to see the pictures from your Celebration of Life? So many people came Scott. They love you so much.” I showed him pictures and told him about that day. I caught him up on Lily and Avery as much as I could.


Before there was Stitch Fix or Instagram Influencers, Scott was going to Marshall’s and TJ Max scouring the store for me while I waited in the dressing room. His sense of style was spot on. If I was shopping by myself, especially for shoes, I texted him pictures or showed him the options on my phone to help me pick. Shoes were his specialty.


So as he was getting ready to leave (or perhaps we were going on a walk or a drive) and he was putting on his shoes, I said to him, “Hey, I bought a pair of Vans. I really like them, but Lily made fun of them and said I should return them.” He laughs, looks up and says, “Nah, they are cute. You should wear them.” And something in that last sentence felt so good. I felt like--yes, I am doing things right. I have these shoes. He approves and in some way it felt like he approved of a lot of other things too.


I don’t cry as much these days, but I am crying as I type this. I cry because I remember how very real the dream was. How amazing it was to be hanging out. How much I miss him. How incredible it was to see my Scott, whole and peaceful. How all I ever wanted was the right medicine, the right therapy, the right hospital stay, the right prayer, the right location of the world to live in, the right job, the right friends, the right kids to somehow bring him peace that didn’t quickly disappear. To put his fractured brain back together. To bring more peace than paranoia. More peace than anger. More peace than torment. I realize now it wasn’t meant to happen in this life, but to see him at peace when I dream is one of the most comforting and beautiful things.



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