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I broke down again this morning. Since it is Saturday (as well as Shabbat), I went back to sleep after taking my dog out. And I had a dream that my mother was back with us, living among us as a family. I keep having dreams like this, but this one felt the most real. Usually when I have dreams like this, there’s usually a sinister undertone. Like something that is not my mother is wearing her face. But this felt so real. I could hear her voice, noticed the little quirks in her facial expressions that only she could make. And most of all, I felt her warmth when I hugged her and told her how much I loved her and missed her. And everyone was so confused. We were overjoyed that she was back but were so confused because we had already buried her and spent the past month experiencing an intense grief like we never felt before and finally accepting all of this for her to walk back into the house, looking healthier than she ever did when she was alive and telling us that she came back simply by “trying her hardest to wake back up.”
And as confused and as we all were, we were so happy. We were all so eager to readjust our lives so that she could easily reintegrate after her month long slumber. I kept thinking “it’s all going to be okay now. My mom is back. I’m going to make plans to go to the park with her and have lunch with her.”
And then I woke up. I was alone in my bedroom. My mother was gone.
I haven’t cried in two weeks. I felt like I was finally accepting what had happened and that I could finally get on with my life. The first week or so after she died, I was just bursting into tears at random throughout the day. While doing household chores, while at the grocery store, while out walking my dog. And it would be loud, nerve wracking sobs. But as the month went on, that didn’t happen anymore, even when I was visiting her grave at the cemetery every Wednesday.
This morning was like that first week all over again. The sheer emptiness at having what I had longed for ripped away when I could feel the warmth of it in my sleep. I haven’t been able to stop crying all morning. It feels like I’m back at square one.
And as confused and as we all were, we were so happy. We were all so eager to readjust our lives so that she could easily reintegrate after her month long slumber. I kept thinking “it’s all going to be okay now. My mom is back. I’m going to make plans to go to the park with her and have lunch with her.”
And then I woke up. I was alone in my bedroom. My mother was gone.
I haven’t cried in two weeks. I felt like I was finally accepting what had happened and that I could finally get on with my life. The first week or so after she died, I was just bursting into tears at random throughout the day. While doing household chores, while at the grocery store, while out walking my dog. And it would be loud, nerve wracking sobs. But as the month went on, that didn’t happen anymore, even when I was visiting her grave at the cemetery every Wednesday.
This morning was like that first week all over again. The sheer emptiness at having what I had longed for ripped away when I could feel the warmth of it in my sleep. I haven’t been able to stop crying all morning. It feels like I’m back at square one.
