For a while, all I could do was watch. That was hard. Watching him crying and grieving. Sometimes, it felt like I could just reach out and touch him. Most of the time it was like sitting behind a one way window; I could see him, but he couldn’t see me. I was in my own little world. I had everything, except him.
It was weird waking up. For the first couple of days, I was in total limbo. I sat by my own body in its coffin, I went to my own funeral, I stood there, watching them bury me. But I was there, stood right next to Hadley, trying to hug the poor guy. Watching him and the kids crying, that was the worst. I couldn’t help them, because I was the reason they were upset. Being dead is a real pain in the ass, whether I’ve got my business and my health back or not. Because Hadley was hurting, and I couldn’t stop it.
I think I made the shift into my new world when I was sat next to my grave, trying to get my head around it. “Maxxie Fuller, died aged 32, 1979-2011”. It just didn’t make sense to me. How could I be dead? I didn’t feel anything. It didn’t hurt. It just... happened. My life slipped away from me. I didn’t even get to say good bye.
Anyway, I did spend a huge amount of my time watching Hadley and the kids. I missed him. I cried probably as much as he did. He still had everyone around him. One thing I quickly learnt about this world is that it only existed for the dead. There wasn’t really a heaven or hell, we just had our new lives in our own ideal world. Mine was like it had been, but you can’t bring the living with you. So while I had my perfect little set up of my successful business and a nice house, I was totally alone. I had no idea where Cayden was, so I couldn’t go to him for comfort. Most other people I’d met said they’d learnt to get around being alone. They altered their idea of a perfect world for them, and their surroundings shifted to accommodate it.
Except I didn’t want to get over it. I wanted my husband and my kids. I’d gladly have gone back to being sick every day and feeling like shit if I got to spend a few more years with them. Fuck it, even a few more months. I could’ve at least made it to Christmas.
I fell into this horrible funk of depression for a while. Hadley felt closer to me when he slept. I’d started sleeping in the day so I could watch him sleep. He was more peaceful. He didn’t cry, or look so broken. It was easier for me to see him asleep than like that. I could watch his dreams, too. They were happier, I think. One night, I made this discovery. I could get into his dreams. Be a part of them. I could wander around in his world like I had when I was in limbo, if I wanted, kinda like a ghost. I’d laid down next to him in bed, wanting to be with him. It wasn’t always enough to watch him and his dreams.
I’d started playing with his hair and he’d reacted to it, pulling me into his dream. It was weird, and I’d done my best to keep it as dream like as possible. But it was so hard. I’d missed him so much and in here, in his dream, I could touch him. It felt so real. The first time I came back to my world I cried like a little bitch. I’d wanted to stay with him there forever, but when he woke up, I was pushed back out. I was also fucking exhausted. Holding myself in his head like that had made me feel like I’d just run a marathon.
But I was gonna do it again. I had to.