It finally happened. Last night, or early this morning on May 2, 2024. I dreamt about my mom - a memory of sorts where we were pouring over photographs and albums, letters, and handwritten memos together. The walk down memory lane was poignant, timely and much needed.
I was asked not a week ago if my mom has visited me in my dreams, and I was disappointed that the answer was no, not yet. They said, it'll happen. I joyfully replied, my mom is probably having a grand time up there with God, and she deserves the time off anyway. It still stung, though.
The memory and dream was vivid, I was me, she was her. We were doing exactly what we were doing on June 2023, but maybe at a dining table (that giant teak oak sturdy as heck table). I read letters I wrote from when I was a kid, about how much I love her, and she told me stories and her memories from reading them. We laughed at photos that were taken of family trips, home time, church time, of her growing up, of me growing up. In that moment, I pondered the importance of writing an updated list counting the ways I love her, and ensuring I leave it in the photo album for her to read when I pass away.
The immediate sensation that my passing away was inevitable and on the very near horizon (like tomorrow or the day after) was incredibly calming. I did not feel fear nor regret nor share in any negative unnecessary emotions. I was grateful.
I thought - mom needs to be able to look back at all this, and feel how much I love her. Leaving a note would be great, a memo, something recent and put together by an adult not a 10-year old child. What a treat that would be. Reading this said letter counting the umpteen ways she is wonderful and loved may help her on those hard days when she misses me.
In my dream, I'm reaching for papers - the perfect type of paper I'm thinking, feeling and trying all the random sheets around me. No, not the stencil paper, not the shorthand books my mom loved to use, not this flimsy sheet, not the one that barely has enough space for more than 10 lines. As I hunt for it, mom questions me, what are you doing? I tell her my intention, how I want to write down the insane number of ways I love her so she can read it every time after I'm gone. She says, I know how you love me, so it's nice to be able to read it, but I don't need it. That'll be for you.
I wake in my reality, holding onto the Traveling Owl that's recently made its way to me from Aunty Enid via cousin Charlene. A smile broaches my face, tears pool on the face of my pillow after falling across my nose bridge as I sleep on my side. My mom visited me in my sleep for the first time - it only took 127 days. I'd wait 1270 days to do that again, it was worth it. Hoping I don't have to wait that long to see my mom or feel her joy again, however the sereneness is worth it. Love you mom. Miss you mom. You're the best mom.
