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Caerleon

Caerleon

The property was a gentle nestling of ivy plants, apple trees, bamboo, and a giant Arbutus that reached toward the bay. I know now, how safe, and grounded Robin felt knowing this was his piece of the world. It was his blanket in the storm of life, his comfort and friend, his security. He was a sensitive soul, a strong man, and a gentle, kind, and honest friend. He was troubled by childhood ghosts, things that haunted him, and caused his final act, of taking his life.

 Being left to agonize and grieve was a punishing sentence. My life ended with his, even though I have lived over 20 years since. 

Any sense of purpose, pride, and all joy evaporated instantly, the moment he was gone. It wasn’t your fault, I was reassured. That didn’t matter, blame didn’t matter, nothing would bring him back, that was the pain. It felt like having my heart sucked into a black hole that was a vortex of agony and grief. 

Shortly after that, Robin Williams made the movie Where Dreams May Come, and I watched it in disbelief as it played out my pain. It was odd, but it felt personal, like it was meant to comfort me.

For so many years the daily re-examining of events played out. The drinking began. To sleep I needed to be numb. Many years have gone into an abyss of this numbness. Then the softening of the pain slowly began. Forgiveness and resolution, reconciliation of my actions at that time, with my insights now, comfort me with more understanding.

 I would buy the property back, if I could, for him. I believe it would give him peace. It would give me peace as well. There is no way to know God’s plan, but it just feels so wrong at times. I believe love is the strongest force and I was fortunate to feel love with Robin despite the troubles and grim ending. 

He visited me several times in my dreams but he was always distant. Dreams are always deeply and desperately appreciated. Any sense of being near him is a treasured moment. He never speaks, except once, I heard him talk to me. We were in the house on his property and it was a familiar scene. He wanted to be with his children and he was there with them, but after a few moments he stopped as if noticing the heartbreak in our faces and he realized he wasn’t alive, and was gone.  I clung to that dream, and tried to start it again. I tried to imagine myself in the cozy cottage with the heat from the wood stove warming the room. I tried to see him as clearly as I had before. It was so real and that made it harder to let go.

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