Grief Handbook, Part X

I’ve had many mothers in my lifetime: a birth mother, an adoptive mother, mothers of my best friends, aunts who were, on occasion, surrogate mothers, but I only had one mom.  And while she’s gone, she still visits me in dreams.

Today is my dad’s birthday, and I wish, God, I wish my Mom was here to celebrate it with him.  I know this means their wedding anniversary is coming up–as I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, I am terrible with dates, so I’m not sure when exactly it is.  They were going to be married 45 years.  Can one even imagine the amount of love and respect for another human being it takes to be married 45 years?

I know I miss her; I can only imaging how my father feels.

I say all of this to preface this statement: I dreamed of her last night.  She comes to me often in my dreams, and by that, I mean, I see her, although I know it’s only my memory of her.  And I woke up crying.

That’s the worst of it, you see: waking up crying.  Because then you remember, all over again, that she’s gone.

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