A good day

From my recent posts I think it's pretty clear that I have been missing my mom a lot. I have noticed that as the time passes since her death, the "missing" becomes transformed into different degrees and manifests in different manners.

I love watching "Say Yes to the Dress" on TLC, and lately it has been really touching my heart, as so many of the wedding dress appointments are young women and their mothers. They always talk about how this day is something they've always dreamed about and how important it is for the two of them to be together on such a special occasion. I usually cry when I hear these types of comments, but instead of being angry and resentful at these girls who are able to have their moms with them, like I would have felt several months ago, I am happy for them and wish so badly I could be in the same position. There is no more anger. Just questions and lots of "missing" going on.

I have had my second dream about my mom, finally. I think it's odd that I do not dream about her or my Aunt Polly very often. Saturday night, I had to go to bed early so I would feel good for work Sunday morning. Of course, with my sleeping issues I'm still having, I ended up falling asleep around one in the morning. I had a dream that mom and I were in my old middle school, and I was pushing her in a wheel chair and she had on her favorite white ball cap. She had just had chemo and was sick, vomiting and crying and such. It broke my heart. I just pushed her around in her wheel chair until she would feel sick again, and that was how most of the dream went. It felt like hours. Then, I took her over to the gymnasium, and I knew that I was dropping her off and would not see her again. I think it's so weird how your brain can process things in your sleep. I knew she was going to be gone forever once I left her there. She was able to stand up from her wheel chair and we hugged really hard and both of us were sobbing and holding on to each other, knowing we wouldn't see each other again.

You know how when a dream scares you, you can make yourself wake up? I did that. I'm not sure why, since my dream was more sad than scary, but I forced myself awake. It was four in the morning. I laid there for a long time, and cried quietly, careful to not wake Adrian sleeping next to me. I tossed and turned until about six, and then just got up since I knew it was hopeless to go back to sleep.

I decided to go to work a little early and get a jump start on my day. I made sure to eat healthy and take the stairs to try to keep myself happy and focused and energized. I was having such a wonderful day, even when I had to cover several patients in the ICU. This was the first time I had ever entered an ICU since mom died, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well I was able to focus and do my job the best I knew how. Other than being made fun of by a stupid resident who didn't agree that a vented patient needed to be fed after three days without nutrition of any kind (!!!), it was a good experience. I will not be afraid to go into the ICU the next time I work.

Near the end of my day, I was taking the stairs when I heard someone hysterically sobbing. It was so loud I thought she was in the stair well, but I couldn't find her. Near the fourth floor, I realized she was in the hallway right outside the stairs and decided to see if I could help or do anything for her. She was a woman about my age with dark, curly hair and gray eyes, and she was crying so hard her mascara was running down both of her cheeks. I walked up to her and asked if she was ok. She told me that her grandma had just passed away unexpectedly, that she wasn't even sick. The woman was shaking. She was so heartbreaking, and I teared up and put my arms out to see if I could give her a hug. She walked right into my arms and we both cried for a couple minutes together. I know this sounds odd to hug a complete stranger, but in a moment where all you want is comfort, I have no problem offering it....or receiving it. Even though I was crying with her, I felt some relief from it. I asked if I could get anything for her or her family, who was also standing near by in the next hallway. She declined but thanked me for asking. I told her again how sorry I was and that I knew it was a difficult time for her.

As I walked away from her, I began to cry a lot harder and felt so much sadness for her and her family and also for myself. I stood in the stairwell and cried for a few minutes, then collected myself and moved on to finish the rest of my work day.

Oddly enough, I left work that day feeling like I had accomplished so much and somehow felt lighter and like I had left some things behind me. It was a good day.