28th June 2010

I had a dream…

posted in Family, Grief, OmegaGranny |

…about Mom.

Actually, I’ve had two dreams that I remember so far.

In my dreams, she’s been sucked into one of my weird and wacky adventures, but I am so glad to see her.  SO glad.  I wonder puzzledly how we got her out of the hospital…

…And then it strikes me:  OH MY GOD.  Everyone thinks she’s dead!  I told everyone she was dead!  What do I do now?!  How do I tell them?!

Sort of like one of those dreams where you realize you’re about to give a speech, but you’re naked and you haven’t prepared for it, or you’re about to take a final for a class only to realize that you not only don’t know anything about the class, but you don’t even remember where it’s being held!

Important events in my life—new home, new city, new husband, new child—these things typically show up in my dreams about six months to a year after the change.  The sooner it happens, the more important I know it is to my psyche. 

It’s been one month.

There are days when life goes on, when things are okay, and then there are days like this, when I weep and feel like there’s a black hole in the middle of my body that is just sucking everything down.  I wake up and say to myself, “Aw, ma!”; I go to sleep and I think about her; I try to gear myself up to write thank-you notes to everyone on my blog and her blog and emails people have sent me and I can’t, because doing that just brings it all back.  There’s a contract for probate sitting on my desk and I can’t bring myself to fill it out and send it.  There’s an annuity claim and all I can do is read it and say, “I don’t want the damned annuity!  I want my MOM!”

There are bills to pay and subscriptions and utilities to cancel or change into my name and accounting to be done.

I am in a fog.  I say to myself, “Pull yo’self together, child!” like my mom would do, and it doesn’t help, because I can’t.  She was the one who was my anchor back to the shore at times like this.

Aw, damn.  It just hurts so much.  I’ve never hurt like this in my life; it’s like a dramatic broken heart except that even when that happened to me in the past I knew I could always…go to my mom for help.  And now I can’t.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 28th, 2010 at 2:03 pm and is filed under Family, Grief, OmegaGranny. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

There are currently 16 responses to “I had a dream…”

  1. 1 On June 28th, 2010, Catalyst (Bruce) said:

    Your mom was a good friend of mine, as I think you probably knew. I miss her, too, though I know it’s nothing like the absence you feel in your life.

    If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.

    Stay well!

  2. 2 On June 29th, 2010, carosgram said:

    I wish I could say that with time it will all be ok but it has been 29 years for my dad and 12 years for my mom and I still miss them. It gets better with time but something will come up and I just want to call and share with my parents. Or I’ll remember something from my childhood and the pain is acute again. I talk to my mom in my head all the time and sometimes even out loud. It is amazing the long lasting effect parents have on their children. Thinking of you and wishing you the best

  3. 3 On June 29th, 2010, Journeywoman said:

    I’m so sorry. I wish I could say something to make it better. All I can say is that if you need to talk to someone, email me and I’ll give you my phone number. I’m a good listener.

  4. 4 On June 29th, 2010, Kate said:

    Hi, O;
    This may sound really dumb but perhaps, as time goes on, these dreams will bring you some joy? An escapade with dear Gran, even if it’s just while you are sleeping? I went through that when my Mom passed away. It’s been 3 years, now, and I still dream about her. We’re always in the garden and these days I wake with a smile. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the dreams don’t cause me pain any longer but it took awhile. The mere fact that you’re able to talk about this stuff is good medicine. You’ve got friends who understand (a little bit) of what you’re feeling and please know that we’re all here to help however we can. Even if it’s just to offer some lame advice, like I just did! - kate

  5. 5 On June 29th, 2010, Steve said:

    All I can offer is “hang in there”. I left a message on one of her post where she had responded to a question I had. It made me feel good. It was as if I was talking to her. She’s with us, just not where we expect her to be.

  6. 6 On June 29th, 2010, Lisa said:

    Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. :(

    I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Thinking of you.

  7. 7 On June 30th, 2010, Jean Woodman said:

    I wish there was something I could do r say to help you, but there is really nothing I can say. We can empathize, all of us who have lost close loved ones, but that really doesn’t do much good, except to let you know you are not alone. There is light at the end of the long hall of loss but it takes time. Did she have a lawyer to handle all the legal nitty gritty of tying up all the loose ends?

  8. 8 On July 5th, 2010, Anon in AV said:

    Missing her, too.

    My husband’s mom died June 14th.

    It doesn’t matter if you’re in your 40s, 50s, or 60s, it’s still your MOM… and no one, nothing can prepare you for that day, that moment when MOM is taken from you, off this earth.

    You have a community who cares, OmegaMom, and these kinds of posts are good…helps you grieve, find support, and hugs.

  9. 9 On July 5th, 2010, Dina said:

    Sorry, Kate. I don’t have any words to make you feel better… just wanted to let you know, you’re in my thoughts.

  10. 10 On July 6th, 2010, Joan said:

    Aw Kate, I’m so sorry but it just sucks. When my mom passed I felt so adrift, like I was out lost on a raft in the middle of the ocean - no rudder, no ground in sight. This lasted quite a while and to be honest all those things you “should” do (thank you’s, responsibilities) went out the window and I just gave myself permission to just “be” and not “do”. I didn’t start feeling like myself until about 8 mos. later, and yet, with the 3 year anniversary coming, I know I will never be the “self” I was before. Hang on tight to those you love, including yourself, and I give you permission to just “be” until you’re ready for more. (And enjoy her dream visits - I look forward to mine!)

  11. 11 On July 7th, 2010, 3cmum said:

    HI. That fog will go but not for a while. Just go with it. Those of us who have been there can attest you won’t ever be the same but you will find a way thought. So hang on in there. And those dreams, well enjoy them. I so look forward to mine!

  12. 12 On July 17th, 2010, Diane said:

    I have had such similar dreams since my Dad passed away last fall. He was also cremated and sometimes I wonder…in my dream…when I discover he is alive…well, who the heck did we cremate then? One dream was- I was standing in his house, now empty and being put up for sale, and I hear him come in the front door. I think- well, how the heck am I going to tell him why none of his things are here anymore?

    As Joan said so beautifully- I know I will never be the ’self’ I was before.

    I am still trying to figure out exactly who I am now. Writing helps and blogging helps because it isn’t long before people around you stop asking how you are. Reaching out as a writer and listening to others who understand is very comforting for me. Hope that it is for you too.

  13. 13 On July 29th, 2010, Kebba Buckley Button said:

    Kate (do I have your name right?),
    My husband and I live in Phoenix. We knew Julie from Prescott area Mensa dinners for the last few years; she had just lost her husband when we met. We have prayed for her health and well-being all that time. So much intellect and passion in a tiny body. One day, with 2 other friends, we drove around Prescott looking for things/sights Julie remembered from decades ago. We found an ancient walkway from one loop road to another, a huge satisfaction for Julie, as she remembered it being Right There. I jogged up and down the road until I found the actual entry point, since Julie was short of breath.
    Lately, the airwaves seemed, well, vacant, and I wondered if Julie was out of commission. I read today that indeed, she left 2 months ago. Please know that she is much loved and missed here. Now we pray for you and your family in this time of loss. Please accept our deepest condolences. And stay in touch if you like (kebba@kebba.com). All the best–Rev. Kebba Buckley Button and Ron Button

  14. 14 On August 7th, 2010, Sandy Banks said:

    Just a few days ago I was driving with my daughter to Arizona and saw the exit sign off 17 for Prescott and thought about you and your Mom… My connection was with my father, and when he died, I grieved hard and heavy like you are about your Mom. I had several dreams - all similar to your “She’s not dead” theme during the first year. I even had what I would call a ‘visitation’ from him and really felt his presence around me. I cried all over again when that feeling left. It takes time.

    He’s been gone for three decades and I am older now that he was when he died. Just awhile ago I had another dream about him coming to see me and he was the age he was at his death, instead of being younger as he was in other dreams. We had a lovely chat and it was a comforting connection. When I woke up I was grateful and although I will always always miss him, I don’t grieve for him. This will come for you as well…. in time.

  15. 15 On August 10th, 2010, yote said:

    My deepest sympathies for your lost. Though we have never met and I never met your Mother I was very inspired by her to start documenting (photoblogging) some of my experience in Prescott. I moved here 3 years ago… almost to the day. Not long after starting school I was introduced to Granny J’s Blog by a professor of mine, Dana Oswald. As a street artist I was always hoping Granny J would stumble upon my artwork and post it on her blog with her usual curiosity and wonder. But eventually I started a blog to document the street art and graffiti in Prescott. http://www.PrescottStreets.com
    I was even lucky enough to have Granny J comment once. Well long story short you mother was a huge inspiration to me and really helped have a sense of place on Prescott. I love it here and can really appreciate the little nuances like she did. My most recent piece of artwork is dedicated to your Mom. It is a Globe Mallow wildflower about 9 feet tall on the Granite Creek Trail, across the creek from Coffee Roasters back porch. I hope you can go see it. Sometimes the city takes them down… sometimes they stay forever. Again, my deepest sympathies.

    Sincerely,
    Yote

  16. 16 On August 10th, 2010, yote said:

    heres a link to a photo.

    http://prescottstreets.com/2010/08/09/yote-5/

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