May 11, 2012
After having a particularly bad anxiety attack in the middle of the night last night (which I usually get about every other night or so to some extent, due to all the stress of handling my mom's estate issues, coping with the grief, and dealing with the PTSD-like symptoms of her death with random flashbacks and panic attacks), my husband got me calmed down and relaxed helping me talk about fond memories. I was able to fall back asleep around 3:45, and for the first time, I had a wonderful, beautiful, realistic dream about my mom.
I was napping on my mom's leather couch, which was in the living room of our old house (which she designed) on the ranch in Colorado. As I slept, I felt my conciousness coming to me from a presence standing near me. I was hearing my name being said in a soft, gentle voice--a voice I recognized. I opened my eyes, blinking in shock as it registered with me that Mom was right there, standing over me, smiling.
"MOM!" I bolted to a sitting position and into her arms as she sat down on the edge of the couch next to me.
"I'm home now. I'm back from the hospital. I have no cancer anymore! It's gone, all of it!"
"Oh, Mom! I thought I'd lost you! I watched you take your last breath," I sobbed on her shoulder. "I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you so much!"
She held me wrapped in her embrace, the side of her head pressed against the side of mine, her hand stroking the back of my hair.
"It's okay. I'm home now. I'm all better."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, Sweetheart."
I could feel the gentle pressure of her arms around me, her breath on my neck and shoulder, her voice in my ear. She looked radiant, my age. Her hair was the beautiful wavy brown I remember it being before it all fell out from the chemo, jaw length. She looked so healthy and vibrant.
I wish I didn't have to wake up from that dream. Those moments were so precious. I'm so thankful for it--I'll never foget every feeling, every look, every word said. This dream was just what I needed right before Mother's Day.