I dreamed of my mother before I woke up this morning. In it, my father and I were visiting her in the hospital, only there were two of her. The one that was strapped to a gurney, wide eyed as she was once the blood loss had put her in to shock, ready to be transported somewhere, and the one waiting with my father and I. I don’t know if she was being transported for a test or a procedure, but instead of a sheet being wrapped around her, it was a body bag. And there I stood, telling her it was going to be alright.
Once they took gurney mom out, we were asked to leave so they could clean the room. (The room was big and sort of looked like an operating room in some old movie, tbh.) My dad grabbed a chair so my mom (the one that was with us) could sit in the hall if she needed to. Once in the hall, I hugged my mom’s arm. (It’s important to note that in the dream, she was a good two feet taller than me.) When I did that, she said to me “You know we can talk now.” Once she said that, I started to cry and could barely say “I can’t…” That made her tear up and she said “I’m sorry.” That’s when I woke up and discovered I had been crying in my sleep.
I can hear her speak in my dreams. I could ever since she passed on, though while she was in the hospital, I couldn’t dream of her voice or even recall it. It angers me that she spent her last three months unable to communicate or control her own body. I feel guilty that during that time, I was stressed and needed time away from the hospital when I knew damn well that she never got a break from that living Hell that was her condition. What kind of person does that make me? A pretty damn awful one. Those who left such glowing words on my FB wall for my birthday should know that. I deserve scorn, not praise. I’ll never know if I could have caught her and prevented her fall and all the suffering that came after it. I’ll never know if there was more I could have done to save her. That’s the breaks, kiddos.
I hold a belief that we keep coming back until our soul finds peace and we can finally go to our final resting place. (Heaven or whatever you would prefer to call it.) If that’s the case, then here is my birthday wish: my mother got to be reborn at the same exact time I was born 34 years ago. I want her new life to be one with (a) loving parent(s) and all the love and affection that she truly deserved in the life that just ended, but never really got. I want her to find peace and happiness and to know she’s worth it. She always has been, now Lord, let her know it.