Dormiam in Caelo

TW: mention of death, dealing with grief

“I can’t sleep” I tell myself every night. I’m tossing and turning, not getting the drowsy feeling I’ve been longing for. It’s been nearly three years since I last felt it. And although I keep telling myself that I miss the nights where I’m lost in an imaginative world instead of staring at my bedroom ceiling, I’m quite sure that I’m lying to myself.

It’s been nearly three years since the love of my life was taken from me. It all happened so fast; we had an argument in this very bedroom, she stormed out, and she never returned. I let myself fall asleep that night instead of waiting for her to come back and I woke up to police lights flickering outside my window. They told me my Celia was gone. It was instant, they said, as if that would help console me. Instant? Instant? I’m sure a million things went through her mind in that split second before she was greeted into Heaven. Now I lie awake at night, wondering if my assumptions are right, but also wondering what thought out of those million was the loudest. I selfishly hope it was about me, although I would forgive her if it wasn’t. When I depart into Caelum, after my last thought being of my Celia, I’ll spend eternity trying to find her. I’ll spend eternity trying to apologise to her.

I thought I’d have to wait the remains of my lifetime to see her again. After Celia’s passing, I took on more shifts at the hospital trying to distract myself from my grief. Perhaps unconsciously I was hoping to see her in one of the beds; hoping that the police somehow gave me the wrong information and she was rushed to the hospital instead, vitals stable. I took on double shifts. I was there day after day, and each day, as I lost sleep, I also lost a little hope. My hope gradually faded away like ashes in the sea. The only thing that kept me going was the patients, the ones who were luckier than Celia – the ones I could save. There were days where I wouldn’t even go home. My long shifts gave me an adrenaline rush that wouldn’t go away when I’d arrive home, causing me to be unable to fall asleep. So I stayed at the hospital, and only when my boss told me so, I’d go home after God knows how long without sleep. That was the only time I’d be able to fall asleep: when I physically wasn’t allowed at work anymore. It took about a month or two for my coworkers to really notice my bad habit, and eventually my boss required me to take a month off of work. So I sat at home with nothing to distract me but my own thoughts, and they quickly shifted back to Celia.

You see, the “I can’t sleep” I started saying to myself is not an “I can’t fall asleep”. That drowsy feeling I’m longing for isn’t absent because I’m never tired, it’s because I am constantly exhausted. Feeling a little sleepy is comfortable, cozy. Feeling exhausted hurts. I’m hurting all over because of my nocturnal habits, yet I’m doing it to myself.

My boss didn’t make me take time off because of my lack of sleep. I’ve always done well without a lot of sleep in my system, so I doubt he’d even notice I hadn’t slept in over a day, sometimes two. I don’t know how my body handles it, but it does. I sometimes stayed awake just because I could. Celia was the only one who could tell me I had to go to sleep and I’d listen. No, my boss made me take time off because my grief crept deep into my brain. I had stayed up for hours, even days, before, but never to the point I hit this one day while working at the hospital. I was in the middle of my break; it was nothing out of the ordinary. I was reading my book when I heard the door of the break room opening and then closing. My back was faced towards the door so I couldn’t see who I would be met with in mere seconds. The footsteps of the person who had just entered grew louder and louder behind me, and then stopped. I turned around and let out a gasp. A girl whose features I recognised instantly stared at me with a smile. Celia. My Celia. I stood up and tried to hug her, but she backed away. I realised I couldn’t touch her. My heart sank. My lack of sleep had caused me to hallucinate, making Celia appear in front of me. But it felt so real; it’s like I could count the freckles on her face like I had done so many times before. Her hair had the same streaks of light and dark brown in it like when I last saw her several months ago. To me, she was real. So I talked to her. I talked and I apologised over and over again. She spoke back, telling me it was okay. I wanted to hold her. Just once again.

I talked to Celia in the break room for a good half hour, not realising my break was already over. My boss walked in to check on me, and he saw me talking to Celia. Well, to him, it seemed like I was talking to the empty void of air.

“Who are you talking to?” He said.

I looked at Celia and her eyes widened. “Go to sleep.” She said.

And just like that, I fell asleep. My boss later said he thought I had fainted, that’s how quick it was.

So he sent me home for a month after this incident, and now I’m here, three years later, still at home. I didn’t want to go back anymore. I’m here in the home I once shared with Celia, then lived alone in, and now, once every three nights, I share with Celia again. “I can’t sleep” I tell myself every night because if I sleep, I can’t see Celia. I have to stay awake or else I’ll have to wait three nights again before I can see her.

People deal with grief in different ways. I don’t think people realise that every way is okay, even if it doesn’t work for themselves. I decided to not tell anyone about my nightly meetings with Celia after I told one of my friends. He told me I was crazy. He told me I was crazy for losing sleep and putting my health at risk just so I could see my Celia. I told him he would never understand. He would never understand that this is the only thing keeping me alive. My sleep and my health are the least of my priorities. Once I depart, I won’t think of the sleep I have missed, I’ll think of my Celia. The love of my life. The one for whom I’ll spend eternity trying to find her. I’ll spend eternity trying to apologise to her. And, pray to God, I hope I’ll spend eternity with her. Getting sleep in this realm is irrelevant to me because I need to remind her that I’ll always love her before I join her. And once I find her and tell her everything I’ve been longing to tell her, I can finally be at peace. My purpose lies here and beyond. I won’t rest until I’m reunited with my Celia; I’ll sleep in Heaven.