Went to bed at my normal hour. 9:30. Woke at 12:30, worried I’d never get back to sleep. Got a drink of water. Read a bit of a book. Fell into a sleep so deep that I dreamed. There was a man on a gurney with attendants and hanging bags, everyone very busy. Me very confused. They brought him to my house in the dead of night. I had questions. How was I related? Why was he here? At one point I remember saying that he had children. Odd bit of medical detail. He had no stomach. I remembered wondering if I could do it again, having just nursed my wife through a terminal illness.

Then I woke and here I am, writing it down, because I don’t want to forget the dream. Now I’m wondering if it was me in a dream triggered by the occasion of my wedding anniversary, three days ago. It was only the second since my wife passed away. I got a little sad. Maybe the dream was my mind backing me away from the mental cliff with a warning. This is you. During the course of her illness all the doctors said, “You have to take care of yourself, if you’re going to take care of her.” I imagine that still holds.

So, okay. I get it. I know I need to get busy which is why I’m getting busy, actually. I’ve slept really well the last several days, and I’m off to the driving range again this morning. Very therapeutic whacking golf balls. Got a good massage just the other day, too. And my water consumption is way up. Next week I’ll get my second cataract repaired. All good signs, I think. Of course, I wish I was happier, but I think the current dip, is just a dip and generally speaking, I’ve had a happy year. And obsessing over happiness never brings it. So, I’m going eat breakfast, count my blessings, and enjoy the cool morning air.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale