I haven’t had a dream with my late husband in it for almost a year. In the first months after he died I had them regularly, most of them waking me in panic. Last night I had another one.

I was coming out of a building somewhere and as I started walking down the steps, I recognized Mike walking on a sidewalk that was parallel and about seventy five feet in front of me. He had on the bright green golf style shirt he loved and his favorite baseball hat.

My heart burst with excitement and my first thought was, “Oh, he didn’t die. He’s still here!” I started calling to him and picked up my pace, but he didn’t see or hear me. As he reached the end of the sidewalk he was on, he turned right, walking farther away from me. I kept calling his name and started running.

Suddenly, to my horror, he collapsed and two men nearby caught and carried him to the grassy area along the sidewalk, laid him face down, shrugged and went on their way. I screamed his name, begging the people around me to help him. Everyone looked the other way and walked on. I tried running faster and realized I couldn’t close the distance between us because the sidewalk I was on was moving backwards with no way to step off.

I startled awake. It took me a minute to realize it was just another one of ‘those’ dreams. The kind that leave me sad and broken all day.

Why am I sharing this intimate and difficult dream here? Because we have a mistaken belief in our ‘get-over-it’ society that in time, the heart and mind forget what has been lost and how we lost it. Time heals all wounds, right?

It’s been over three and half years now, since Mike died suddenly, unexpectedly and I returned home to find him lifeless in the yard. For the most part, humans have an innate ability to adjust over time. We adapt to the void and even the trauma, that absence and loss carries. Strength and a will to live return and eventually, at times, good memories or new circumstances outweigh the sadness carried.

But we never forget. Our love for them doesn’t end, nor does the longing and yearning for their physical presence. Five, ten, twenty years later our heart can remind us that we had an amazing person in our life that is no longer here. And can also remind us that how we lost them was difficult.

Time might heal the wound but it doesn’t take much to rip that scar open. You never know what another is battling so be patient with those who are once again ambushed by loss. A bit of mercy, compassion and understanding goes a long way to help all who experience the hidden side of lifelong grief.