Most of the time Mom’s death and all of my feelings that go with it are compressed into a hard little rock of a fact that I keep pushed to the side of my mind and my heart.
But during the quiet times throughout the day, and especially at night, that little rock becomes something different and it starts unfolding itself and becoming a web of memories, regrets and longings.
When I’m out doing things with other people, Mom’s passing is just a fact. It’s that manageable little rock that can be pushed aside or put into a box and dealt with. When I’m home with Lauren during the day, taking stock of things and making plans for the future is when it starts to get fuzzy again. Mom will never meet this new little girl coming in June; she will never see me ride the horse she gave me; she won’t gather with the rest of us at Dad’s new farm; she won’t tell me what she thinks about my redecorating ideas for my own house – she is GONE. And somehow my life is going on without her. But not, because every little thing eventually reminds me of her.
I have been dreaming of Mom almost every night lately. The dreams are all different, but the ending is the same. Mom is always sick and in the end she is dying and there is nothing that I can do about it. I often wake David up with my tossing and moaning, but the dreams aren’t all bad. I’ve dreamed of talking to Mom about many of the things going on in my life right now and it feels so good to be able to share with her again; although her dream advice and commentary is much more blunt and irritated than it was in reality. I’m not really talking to Mom, after all…I’m talking to my injured sub-self.
I’m not the only one missing Mom. I have been thinking about reaching out to her friends in a selfish effort to comfort myself by finding some piece of Mom in them, but it doesn’t work like that. I did run into one of Mom’s very best friends a few weeks ago and when she saw me, she looked like she was seeing a ghost. We were in a place that we both had been with Mom before, and seeing me there clearly confused and hurt Mom’s friend. She had been lost in involuntary thoughts about Mom and I was not the answer that she was looking for. That was a strange realization for me – that the world does not revolve around me and my own grief.
Be good to one another – better than necessary, even. You never know what’s going on under the surface.