A week, or maybe a couple of weeks, ago I dreamed of him. The scene was similar to one hour before he passed away: the three of us on the bed, our daughter was playing while the two of us were having a lie-down. In the dream, I knew that he’s gone and that the one lying next to me was just some ‘temporary substitute’. I told him, while trying hard to swallow my tears because I didn’t want him to see that I was sad or that I knew what would happen to him, “Please, don’t go just yet..” And he told me, “No, I just want to sleep.”
The actual last words he said to me before he passed away was, “I’m tired, I think I’d better have some sleep.”
Today I woke up from another dream of him. In the dream we just got married, but then he got shot and died in the surgery room. His last word was the first syllable of my nickname. Though he didn’t have the chance to say it before his eyes closed for the last time in my arms the day he passed away, it felt like that exact moment.
He died nonetheless. Again.
Different stories, same result.