Last night, after writing my last post, I had a dream about my mom. And instead of it being frightening and awful, I am happy to announce that it was one of the most glorious dreams I have ever had in my life. Of course, after you have a dream like that, you feel a tiny pang of "I can't believe that wasn't real" when you wake up, but nevertheless, it was there.
I was in the mausoleum her ashes are buried in, and I was looking at the wall with her name on it very closely. I turned around for a second and when I turned back, all of the places holding ashes were gone, only leaving open spaces in the wall. The individual letters making up all the names had vanished. I felt ashamed, thinking I did something wrong. I got up from the bench I was sitting on, getting ready to go tell the manager of the cemetery what I had done, and my mom walked hurriedly into the front door of the mausoleum. She had her blond hair back (she usually is bald in my dreams), and she was thin, from before she got sick, working so hard all on her own to lose the weight. She was wearing a pink sweater I remember from when I was really young and a pair of light jeans and white tennis shoes. Her eyes darted from side to side as though she was looking for someone. I noticed her right away, and my heart began to pound the way it does when you think you see someone that has died while you're grocery shopping or getting gas. At least, when I catch glimpses of people I think look like my aunt Polly or my mom or other people that are now gone, that's what happens to me. I remember thinking as I was watching her that I knew it couldn't really be her, but it looked exactly like her, and I was scared.
"Mom?" I yelled. She turned around, and instant relief immediately came over her face. She dropped her arms and let out a sigh and rushed over towards me with her arms out to hug me. It really was her. We hugged for a long time. "Is it really you?" I asked her. She said, "Of course it is," as she patted me on my back. "I just missed you so much, I had to come see you." She told me she knew I needed her. And it was exactly what I needed.
We just stood there for a long time, and then we let go of each other except I kept a hold of her shoulders and looked her up and down. "You look so good!" I told her. I was always her biggest fan, especially when she was working so hard to lose her extra weight. She smiled and looked a little embarrassed, never liking to be the center of attention. We hugged again, and she rested her head on my shoulder for a long time. "I miss you so much," she said, muffled, into my cheek.
In this dream, she didn't die. I didn't have a looming feeling of knowing it was coming. It was just pure bliss, being able to be with her, not having to worry that she was going away. While we were hugging, I woke up.
I closed my eyes really tight and covered my head with my blanket, hoping to convince my brain to send me off to sleep again so I could pick up where I left off. That never happened. I am, of course, saddened by the fact that that was only a dream, but I am so happy I finally had one like that.
I can't help but wonder that sometimes they are so in tune with us up in Heaven that they know what we need, and as they become more comfortable up there, they can control how they are perceived. Maybe she knew how much I missed her and how lonely I've been without her in my life, the kind of loneliness you can only feel when your mom is gone. Maybe she misses me as much as I miss her, and she really wanted to see me. Who knows. These are questions that will unfortunately never be answered, but they are nice thoughts. I have not visited her grave since my aunts and I left her flowers during Christmas, so maybe it was a sign I need to stop by. Maybe I will feel her while I'm there.
I think it is fascinating that while she was still alive, she somehow always knew exactly what I needed. Up in Heaven, it doesn't appear to be any different for her and I. As I sit here writing this, I am flooded with emotions, wiping tears from my face. Just the thought of her missing me like I miss her breaks my heart. I just want her to be happy and released. But I like the idea of being able to visit from time to time. I guess my thought of "on days I miss her the most, those are the days she is closest to me" wasn't that far off.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
You're not that far away
You may have noticed my absence during the past several weeks, mostly because I have no idea what to say that is not already a repeat of posts past. I am still dealing with the same difficulties and haunts, still having dreams of my mom, still reaching for the phone to call her, still dealing with the anger that she is really gone. And as the months continue to flash by, I am realizing she is really gone.
As time goes by, although in some ways it gets easier, it does not for one second leave my mind that I will return to a house without her in it. I started my last semester of grad school, and today was my second week. Last Tuesday and today, I felt the old, familiar urge to reach into my purse and call her while walking out to my car in the parking lot that feels miles away when it's only twenty degrees outside. Talking to her on this daily trek was somewhat of a ritual of mine, and like her, it has now been put to rest.
One thing I have noticed about myself is that not all parts are back to normal despite my loss nearly four months ago. I know that this isn't ample time to "go back to normal," but I thought by now that things would return to their natural flow, but rather, they are more shaken up now than they have been in months. I am still searching for a job, reaching 72 applications tonight. Last week, I applied for graduation in May, and my thesis was approved. I have also purchased my wedding dress. I can't help but feel some happiness from these things, but I am also very aware of the fact that they do not hold the same excitement they could if she was here to share them with me.
What I wouldn't give for her encouragement on my job hunt or having to face the revisions on my thesis to continue to pursue my dreams of working in corporate wellness. She would make me feel so much better and at least temporarily ease the pang of hopelessness and uselessness I feel deep in my gut from not working anymore. I do not regret my decision to resign from my position, but I am starting to feel the desperation of watching my bank account of hard-earned, carefully-saved funds slowly draining.
I have this picture in my head of us going wedding dress hunting. We wake up early one Saturday morning on a weekend I have off from work, and we pile in her car and head toward downtown Minerva, a mini-roadtrip if you will, to Henri's, one of the best dress shops in all of Ohio. We went there for my prom dresses, and it was very special for the two of us. "I've been waiting all these years to bring you down here," she said, the first time we headed there. In my dream, I can see the same smile on her face, finally getting to share something so amazing with her daughter she's waited for all her life. We make the hour drive together, humming along to oldies and talking about wedding plans and school, updating her on my friends and what is happening with my thesis. Henri's is filled with hundreds of beautiful, elegant bridal gowns, and she sits patiently while I try on several I pick out. Oddly enough, the one she always picks out I think is hideous on the hanger but I agree to try on is always my top choice, and the wedding dress hunt I'm sure would be no different. She sometimes knew me better than I knew myself.
I am so heartbroken that was not a trip we could make together. And a trip there now, without her, would feel no more than a false attempt of "normalcy" that I have no desire to try and fake. I got my dress, by myself, from a local department store and tried it on in front of my aunts as they ooohed and aaahed over it. I just couldn't make the excursion, for my sake and for her's, a big deal. It had to be simple and private, and anything more would have been too hurtful, and far too much.
I think what I'm trying to say is that things that would have been so amazingly wonderful to experience have somewhat "lost their magic," I suppose. I turned in my graduation application and felt nearly nothing as I walked away from the official office. The program I dedicated six years of my life to...One that led me to exhaustion and illness, one that had me get up at four in the morning, work til six at night, invest more time in it than my own sick mother, and one that caused fits of desperate tears, questions to God like "Am I really supposed to be doing this with my life?" and one that involved simultaneously completing two more biochemistry classes, as if four weren't enough already, on top of the remaining rigorous class schedule and the completion of a thesis. I felt nothing. All I wanted to do was call my mom.
I drove home in my car in silence. No radio. No CDs. I left my cell phone in my purse where I couldn't reach it. I didn't want to talk to anyone if I couldn't talk to her. No magic at all. Those types of days are when I miss her most of all. Days that should be big, but are not anymore without her here to share them with.
One of the greatest things about our relationship was that I knew, really knew, how much I meant to her, and I know that she never once doubted how much she meant to me. I knew that my birthday was just as special for her, and days like high school graduation, being announced homecoming queen, and college graduation were probably even more important to her than they were to me. Sadly, days filled with thesis approvals, graduation applications, and wedding dress buying will never feel as glorious as they should, because I know that even though they would have been so grand to me, they would have made her doubly proud. Instead, they feel nearly the same as any other day. Buy your wedding dress today? Yep. No different than a Tuesday. Hey, you turned in your graduation application today? Sure did, feels no different than a Thursday.
The days just move by without any sense of "doing." I feel like I am doing nothing over and over again. Which, really, is the contrary. I have been endlessly working on my thesis and preparing to take my licensure exam to become a personal trainer in hopes of finally reigning in a job, getting ready for school to start, meticulously cleaning and organizing my room, planning a wedding and designing bouquets, boutonnieres, and corsages. But it is not the same type of fulfillment I felt as I walked out to my car after a good day at work. I miss my work. I think I am ready to return to the clinical field, and I began applying for clinical positions several days ago. I hope that my luck in this field may be better than some of the others I have tried to enter with my degree. At this point, I just want to feel useful again. Being "busy" with nonsense doesn't mean much to me except trying to keep my mind occupied, as opposed to being busy, like at a job, where I feel I have a purpose and a goal to help others. I think finally landing a job may increase my spirits by ten-fold. I never realized how much I enjoyed working with people and doing all I could to help them. Don't get me wrong, I actually did enjoy my days at work, but I never really understood how much I really loved it now that it is missing in my life.
Like missing her, it is just another thing I must add to the list of "things that will never be the same." So many things are missing now. I have never been one to enjoy change, and with all of the changes that have occurred in my life, it is no wonder I feel the way I do now. A job would be a nice start. And then onto the rest.
My dream for myself is to start feeling helpful and useful again. And to start refreshing my bank account. For a college student, I had a pretty cushioned amount, and I always felt so proud of my accomplishments and success of obtaining money to use after school was over to get an apartment, put a down-payment on a house, pay off loans, who knows. I hope to replace my money and achieve that sense of safety again. I'd like to continue cooking and painting, two things I have not done since she died. I think maybe it might be because I'm so uncomfortable with my life. Maybe as things begin to gain ground and "restart," if you will, I will feel the urge to continue pursuing things I loved so much during what feels like a past life. Since the major things are missing, I don't really feel like I can focus on the little things, like cooking.
I don't need much in my life. A job. Financial stability. The feeling of usefulness. And my family.
A pivotal role in my family is gone, and therefore, that dream of the ideal life is gone, but with a little help from the other necessities in life, I feel as though I may be able to slowly return to the old me and who I was working towards becoming. She will always be missing, since she was such a huge part of me. But she will not be too far away, especially on days I miss her the most, because those are the days she feels closest to me.
As time goes by, although in some ways it gets easier, it does not for one second leave my mind that I will return to a house without her in it. I started my last semester of grad school, and today was my second week. Last Tuesday and today, I felt the old, familiar urge to reach into my purse and call her while walking out to my car in the parking lot that feels miles away when it's only twenty degrees outside. Talking to her on this daily trek was somewhat of a ritual of mine, and like her, it has now been put to rest.
One thing I have noticed about myself is that not all parts are back to normal despite my loss nearly four months ago. I know that this isn't ample time to "go back to normal," but I thought by now that things would return to their natural flow, but rather, they are more shaken up now than they have been in months. I am still searching for a job, reaching 72 applications tonight. Last week, I applied for graduation in May, and my thesis was approved. I have also purchased my wedding dress. I can't help but feel some happiness from these things, but I am also very aware of the fact that they do not hold the same excitement they could if she was here to share them with me.
What I wouldn't give for her encouragement on my job hunt or having to face the revisions on my thesis to continue to pursue my dreams of working in corporate wellness. She would make me feel so much better and at least temporarily ease the pang of hopelessness and uselessness I feel deep in my gut from not working anymore. I do not regret my decision to resign from my position, but I am starting to feel the desperation of watching my bank account of hard-earned, carefully-saved funds slowly draining.
I have this picture in my head of us going wedding dress hunting. We wake up early one Saturday morning on a weekend I have off from work, and we pile in her car and head toward downtown Minerva, a mini-roadtrip if you will, to Henri's, one of the best dress shops in all of Ohio. We went there for my prom dresses, and it was very special for the two of us. "I've been waiting all these years to bring you down here," she said, the first time we headed there. In my dream, I can see the same smile on her face, finally getting to share something so amazing with her daughter she's waited for all her life. We make the hour drive together, humming along to oldies and talking about wedding plans and school, updating her on my friends and what is happening with my thesis. Henri's is filled with hundreds of beautiful, elegant bridal gowns, and she sits patiently while I try on several I pick out. Oddly enough, the one she always picks out I think is hideous on the hanger but I agree to try on is always my top choice, and the wedding dress hunt I'm sure would be no different. She sometimes knew me better than I knew myself.
I am so heartbroken that was not a trip we could make together. And a trip there now, without her, would feel no more than a false attempt of "normalcy" that I have no desire to try and fake. I got my dress, by myself, from a local department store and tried it on in front of my aunts as they ooohed and aaahed over it. I just couldn't make the excursion, for my sake and for her's, a big deal. It had to be simple and private, and anything more would have been too hurtful, and far too much.
I think what I'm trying to say is that things that would have been so amazingly wonderful to experience have somewhat "lost their magic," I suppose. I turned in my graduation application and felt nearly nothing as I walked away from the official office. The program I dedicated six years of my life to...One that led me to exhaustion and illness, one that had me get up at four in the morning, work til six at night, invest more time in it than my own sick mother, and one that caused fits of desperate tears, questions to God like "Am I really supposed to be doing this with my life?" and one that involved simultaneously completing two more biochemistry classes, as if four weren't enough already, on top of the remaining rigorous class schedule and the completion of a thesis. I felt nothing. All I wanted to do was call my mom.
I drove home in my car in silence. No radio. No CDs. I left my cell phone in my purse where I couldn't reach it. I didn't want to talk to anyone if I couldn't talk to her. No magic at all. Those types of days are when I miss her most of all. Days that should be big, but are not anymore without her here to share them with.
One of the greatest things about our relationship was that I knew, really knew, how much I meant to her, and I know that she never once doubted how much she meant to me. I knew that my birthday was just as special for her, and days like high school graduation, being announced homecoming queen, and college graduation were probably even more important to her than they were to me. Sadly, days filled with thesis approvals, graduation applications, and wedding dress buying will never feel as glorious as they should, because I know that even though they would have been so grand to me, they would have made her doubly proud. Instead, they feel nearly the same as any other day. Buy your wedding dress today? Yep. No different than a Tuesday. Hey, you turned in your graduation application today? Sure did, feels no different than a Thursday.
The days just move by without any sense of "doing." I feel like I am doing nothing over and over again. Which, really, is the contrary. I have been endlessly working on my thesis and preparing to take my licensure exam to become a personal trainer in hopes of finally reigning in a job, getting ready for school to start, meticulously cleaning and organizing my room, planning a wedding and designing bouquets, boutonnieres, and corsages. But it is not the same type of fulfillment I felt as I walked out to my car after a good day at work. I miss my work. I think I am ready to return to the clinical field, and I began applying for clinical positions several days ago. I hope that my luck in this field may be better than some of the others I have tried to enter with my degree. At this point, I just want to feel useful again. Being "busy" with nonsense doesn't mean much to me except trying to keep my mind occupied, as opposed to being busy, like at a job, where I feel I have a purpose and a goal to help others. I think finally landing a job may increase my spirits by ten-fold. I never realized how much I enjoyed working with people and doing all I could to help them. Don't get me wrong, I actually did enjoy my days at work, but I never really understood how much I really loved it now that it is missing in my life.
Like missing her, it is just another thing I must add to the list of "things that will never be the same." So many things are missing now. I have never been one to enjoy change, and with all of the changes that have occurred in my life, it is no wonder I feel the way I do now. A job would be a nice start. And then onto the rest.
My dream for myself is to start feeling helpful and useful again. And to start refreshing my bank account. For a college student, I had a pretty cushioned amount, and I always felt so proud of my accomplishments and success of obtaining money to use after school was over to get an apartment, put a down-payment on a house, pay off loans, who knows. I hope to replace my money and achieve that sense of safety again. I'd like to continue cooking and painting, two things I have not done since she died. I think maybe it might be because I'm so uncomfortable with my life. Maybe as things begin to gain ground and "restart," if you will, I will feel the urge to continue pursuing things I loved so much during what feels like a past life. Since the major things are missing, I don't really feel like I can focus on the little things, like cooking.
I don't need much in my life. A job. Financial stability. The feeling of usefulness. And my family.
A pivotal role in my family is gone, and therefore, that dream of the ideal life is gone, but with a little help from the other necessities in life, I feel as though I may be able to slowly return to the old me and who I was working towards becoming. She will always be missing, since she was such a huge part of me. But she will not be too far away, especially on days I miss her the most, because those are the days she feels closest to me.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The little things
Lately I have been noticing how the little things seem to evoke huge emotions I would have never expected. You would think that something like getting engaged or Christmas would cause these types of tidal waves, but for me, I am more moved by the little things. I am not sure that I have ever noticed minuscule things like I do now, but I suppose that experiences like losing your mom will change your perception.
Today, as I was looking under my bathroom sink to find my hairdryer, I came across my mom's curling iron. She used things until they were barely holding on by a thread. I would laugh at her, "Mom, why don't you just get a new one?" She just liked what she liked, and she was convinced that nothing was better than the one she already had. Her poor curling iron had electrical tape across the part where you press your thumb to make the iron open. It had broken a while back and instead of getting a new one, she fixed hers because she liked it so much. She had a make up bag that literally was coming apart at the seams. The zipper didn't work, the top of it just flapped open and close, and it was so old it was discolored. She loved it and refused to get a new one. I found her curling iron and her makeup bag beside my hairdryer, and I couldn't help but pick up her curling iron and hold it close to my heart. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried like a baby, rocking back and forth with the curling iron in my arms like a child. I pressed it close to me as if I could actually get it close enough to feel her again. I looked at the curling iron, examined every little piece of it, I ran my fingers over the barrel, over the electrical tape holding it together. I sat there for a while with it just sitting in my lap, afraid to put it away, afraid that it might feel like I was putting her memory away. I placed it gently back in its spot and thought about picking up her makeup bag, but I was afraid it might fall apart, so I just sat on the floor longer and looked at it. It made me think about her and how loyal she was, how carefully she took care of her things. They were so precious to her, even if they were just a curling iron or a makeup bag. They are so precious to me now.
I come across things like this on a daily basis in my house. Her mug she brought home from work when she got sick, her vanilla lotion that is sitting in our bathroom cupboard, her glasses sitting on her nightstand. They are still waiting for her to return, like we all are. Just little things that would normally go unnoticed. But they scream out to me now. Scream to be touched and examined, to be taken care of. I miss her so much, I would do anything for her to come back. But, all I can do now is hold onto her possessions as if they were her. Who would have ever thought that a broken curling iron with electrical tape holding it together could have so much meaning behind it.
Besides touching her, what I really miss is having "mom days" with her, where it was just her and I together all day. I would be so excited I could barely wait for her to get ready in the morning, and we would go to the farmer's market or the mall, sometimes to Amish country. We never went for anything in particular, just to "get out" and have an adventure. She loved any kind of music, especially if it had a heavier beat. So, surprisingly, she liked a lot of mainstream hip hop, and when a song that she really liked would come on, she would turn the volume up so loud that the windows of her car would practically rattle. That always made me laugh. She'd say, "Ooo, I love this one" and quickly turn the volume knob up as if she couldn't afford to lose one second of playing the song as loud as she could. She'd bob her head to the beat and sing along with the parts of the song she knew. We would sing along to the oldies too, and when I would know the words better than her, she would tell me I was born in the wrong generation. Sometimes I really do wish I was born when she was, so we could have been friends in high school. We got along so well.
Tonight I went to my favorite coffee house for open mic night, and when I went out to my car, frost had settled on my windshield and I had to scrape it off. I have no idea why, but it reminded me of these old boots my mom had that were gray and had black faux fur around the tops. She had those when I was really little, probably only when I was five or six. But I remember them. As I was driving around this one curve near my house on my way home tonight, I remembered a time when I was very young, still sitting in a car seat in the back of my mom's van, and we went around that curve and did circles on the ice and went into the ditch. I don't know how old I was, but I remember this happening and even the coat my mom was wearing. It was a brown and tan fuzzy coat, and this was back when Ford still made Aerostar vans. I am not sure how old I was or how it is even possible that I remember these things, but I do, and what is even stranger to me is what prompted these memories. Just little things, simply passed by everyday, completely unnoticed. I notice them. They make me think of her. Everything makes me think of her.
She is on my mind practically all the time, even when I try not to think of her. I am having more and more dreams about her, and she dies in every single one. Sometimes they scare me and I wake up in the middle of them, and other times I sleep through them, letting her die all over again. I have had only one dream, in fact, where she did not die. It was the one I wrote about many posts ago where we were in a cabin together, just her and I. Other than that, they have all ended in the same fashion, replaying what happened on October 8th.
Just a few nights ago, I was thinking about her and I together on our family vacations to Hilton Head. We stayed in a condo that had a swimming pool, where we spent most of our time during the day. For some reason, I was thinking about a bathing suit she had. It was navy blue on the bottom and white on the top and had a gold embroidered anchor on the white part. She wore Jackie-O sunglasses, and she sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water while I swam around them. Sometimes I would float in between them and she would lift me out of the water by her feet. I really liked when she would get in with me, and I would carry her around while she floated on the surface. As a little kid, I didn't realize how buoyancy worked, and she would say to me, "You're so strong!" My latest dream about her was this type of scene. I was walking through the gates to a pool, and I saw a bunch of people I knew there, and I caught a glimpse of my mom out of the corner of my eye. I got this weird feeling, that feeling you get when you see someone you haven't seen in a long time and you're completely overwhelmed and surprised to see them there. I knew she was supposed to be dead. "Mom!"I yelled, and I ran over to her, and she was wearing her navy blue and white bathing suit and Jackie-Os. We got in the water and swam together and I carried her around while she floated, and I held her in my arms like she was a baby. I moved her all around the pool effortlessly, letting the water do its job to hold her up, and she curled closer and closer to my chest. I knew she was dying. I held her like that until I knew she was gone, her face looking exactly as it did that morning in the ICU. I snuggled her close to me and sat on the step of the pool and rocked her back and forth. I patted her back and hummed to her while I cried. I did my best to take care of her and make her comfortable since I knew she was dying and she was probably scared. I knew there was no place she would have rather been than beside me, and I tried to keep her as close as possible, to keep her warm and safe until I knew she was in Heaven.
I like how in dreams you can feel emotions and understand them without them even being mentioned. Your brain does some serious processing while you're sleeping.
I think that I had this dream because I was always so worried that I could never do anything for my mom while she was sick. She actually apologized to me for "ruining my life," and she never realized how sorry I was that hers was ruined much more than mine ever would be. When it sank in that she was dying, all I wanted to do was cradle her in my arms and rock her back and forth until she was gone. I would have done anything to keep her safe, to keep her from being scared. I just wanted her to feel snuggled and cherished up until her last breath and feel nothing but loved. I loved her more than I will ever be able to love anyone else on this planet. She deserved that kind of love, and I am so happy that I was able to provide that type of rock-solid, undying love just for her. Everyone mentions to me now how much I meant to her, but I have always known that.
When I was growing up, we had an old wooden rocking chair she kept in our family room. I remember curling in a ball on her lap with my pink blanket and rocking together in that chair until I fell asleep. We were each other's world.
Cancer has shattered them both. One, forever. The other will eventually heal, but there are pieces that will always be missing, lost forever with her.
Today, as I was looking under my bathroom sink to find my hairdryer, I came across my mom's curling iron. She used things until they were barely holding on by a thread. I would laugh at her, "Mom, why don't you just get a new one?" She just liked what she liked, and she was convinced that nothing was better than the one she already had. Her poor curling iron had electrical tape across the part where you press your thumb to make the iron open. It had broken a while back and instead of getting a new one, she fixed hers because she liked it so much. She had a make up bag that literally was coming apart at the seams. The zipper didn't work, the top of it just flapped open and close, and it was so old it was discolored. She loved it and refused to get a new one. I found her curling iron and her makeup bag beside my hairdryer, and I couldn't help but pick up her curling iron and hold it close to my heart. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried like a baby, rocking back and forth with the curling iron in my arms like a child. I pressed it close to me as if I could actually get it close enough to feel her again. I looked at the curling iron, examined every little piece of it, I ran my fingers over the barrel, over the electrical tape holding it together. I sat there for a while with it just sitting in my lap, afraid to put it away, afraid that it might feel like I was putting her memory away. I placed it gently back in its spot and thought about picking up her makeup bag, but I was afraid it might fall apart, so I just sat on the floor longer and looked at it. It made me think about her and how loyal she was, how carefully she took care of her things. They were so precious to her, even if they were just a curling iron or a makeup bag. They are so precious to me now.
I come across things like this on a daily basis in my house. Her mug she brought home from work when she got sick, her vanilla lotion that is sitting in our bathroom cupboard, her glasses sitting on her nightstand. They are still waiting for her to return, like we all are. Just little things that would normally go unnoticed. But they scream out to me now. Scream to be touched and examined, to be taken care of. I miss her so much, I would do anything for her to come back. But, all I can do now is hold onto her possessions as if they were her. Who would have ever thought that a broken curling iron with electrical tape holding it together could have so much meaning behind it.
Besides touching her, what I really miss is having "mom days" with her, where it was just her and I together all day. I would be so excited I could barely wait for her to get ready in the morning, and we would go to the farmer's market or the mall, sometimes to Amish country. We never went for anything in particular, just to "get out" and have an adventure. She loved any kind of music, especially if it had a heavier beat. So, surprisingly, she liked a lot of mainstream hip hop, and when a song that she really liked would come on, she would turn the volume up so loud that the windows of her car would practically rattle. That always made me laugh. She'd say, "Ooo, I love this one" and quickly turn the volume knob up as if she couldn't afford to lose one second of playing the song as loud as she could. She'd bob her head to the beat and sing along with the parts of the song she knew. We would sing along to the oldies too, and when I would know the words better than her, she would tell me I was born in the wrong generation. Sometimes I really do wish I was born when she was, so we could have been friends in high school. We got along so well.
Tonight I went to my favorite coffee house for open mic night, and when I went out to my car, frost had settled on my windshield and I had to scrape it off. I have no idea why, but it reminded me of these old boots my mom had that were gray and had black faux fur around the tops. She had those when I was really little, probably only when I was five or six. But I remember them. As I was driving around this one curve near my house on my way home tonight, I remembered a time when I was very young, still sitting in a car seat in the back of my mom's van, and we went around that curve and did circles on the ice and went into the ditch. I don't know how old I was, but I remember this happening and even the coat my mom was wearing. It was a brown and tan fuzzy coat, and this was back when Ford still made Aerostar vans. I am not sure how old I was or how it is even possible that I remember these things, but I do, and what is even stranger to me is what prompted these memories. Just little things, simply passed by everyday, completely unnoticed. I notice them. They make me think of her. Everything makes me think of her.
She is on my mind practically all the time, even when I try not to think of her. I am having more and more dreams about her, and she dies in every single one. Sometimes they scare me and I wake up in the middle of them, and other times I sleep through them, letting her die all over again. I have had only one dream, in fact, where she did not die. It was the one I wrote about many posts ago where we were in a cabin together, just her and I. Other than that, they have all ended in the same fashion, replaying what happened on October 8th.
Just a few nights ago, I was thinking about her and I together on our family vacations to Hilton Head. We stayed in a condo that had a swimming pool, where we spent most of our time during the day. For some reason, I was thinking about a bathing suit she had. It was navy blue on the bottom and white on the top and had a gold embroidered anchor on the white part. She wore Jackie-O sunglasses, and she sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water while I swam around them. Sometimes I would float in between them and she would lift me out of the water by her feet. I really liked when she would get in with me, and I would carry her around while she floated on the surface. As a little kid, I didn't realize how buoyancy worked, and she would say to me, "You're so strong!" My latest dream about her was this type of scene. I was walking through the gates to a pool, and I saw a bunch of people I knew there, and I caught a glimpse of my mom out of the corner of my eye. I got this weird feeling, that feeling you get when you see someone you haven't seen in a long time and you're completely overwhelmed and surprised to see them there. I knew she was supposed to be dead. "Mom!"I yelled, and I ran over to her, and she was wearing her navy blue and white bathing suit and Jackie-Os. We got in the water and swam together and I carried her around while she floated, and I held her in my arms like she was a baby. I moved her all around the pool effortlessly, letting the water do its job to hold her up, and she curled closer and closer to my chest. I knew she was dying. I held her like that until I knew she was gone, her face looking exactly as it did that morning in the ICU. I snuggled her close to me and sat on the step of the pool and rocked her back and forth. I patted her back and hummed to her while I cried. I did my best to take care of her and make her comfortable since I knew she was dying and she was probably scared. I knew there was no place she would have rather been than beside me, and I tried to keep her as close as possible, to keep her warm and safe until I knew she was in Heaven.
I like how in dreams you can feel emotions and understand them without them even being mentioned. Your brain does some serious processing while you're sleeping.
I think that I had this dream because I was always so worried that I could never do anything for my mom while she was sick. She actually apologized to me for "ruining my life," and she never realized how sorry I was that hers was ruined much more than mine ever would be. When it sank in that she was dying, all I wanted to do was cradle her in my arms and rock her back and forth until she was gone. I would have done anything to keep her safe, to keep her from being scared. I just wanted her to feel snuggled and cherished up until her last breath and feel nothing but loved. I loved her more than I will ever be able to love anyone else on this planet. She deserved that kind of love, and I am so happy that I was able to provide that type of rock-solid, undying love just for her. Everyone mentions to me now how much I meant to her, but I have always known that.
When I was growing up, we had an old wooden rocking chair she kept in our family room. I remember curling in a ball on her lap with my pink blanket and rocking together in that chair until I fell asleep. We were each other's world.
Cancer has shattered them both. One, forever. The other will eventually heal, but there are pieces that will always be missing, lost forever with her.
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