Sunday, July 18, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 52; In My Dreams (repost)

Friday, October 10, 2008

She comes to me in my dreams. After three years devoid of her physical presence, this epiphany washes over me.

Losing her was the hardest thing I have ever gone through. My world, my life as I knew it, ended when she left. We have forged ahead and made a "new normal", as we call it, but ultimately it is not the same.

Stories are told of people losing loved ones and feeling their presence. "She is always with me, always watching" they say. Others confess they regularly *speak* with their loved one who has died. And while I have had fleeting moments of feeling her with me as I glide and trip, arms flailing madly through this obstacle we call Life, mostly I feel a void when it comes to her presence in my daily life. And yes, I speak to her, much like I pray to my God.  It goes something like this: "Mom, please help me have the courage to finish this run" or "Mom, I know you won't approve of this, so I'm asking forgiveness ahead of time."

She's not my God, but I do I talk to her in a similar way.

Every time I find a penny on the ground, I stop what I am doing, no matter where I am, to stoop quickly and grab the coin. She believed that every time she found one it was a penny from Heaven, sent from her sister who had died a few years before she did. I just willingly assumed that she would send me pennies also. So, I snatch them in my hands, hoping their sheen, or tarnish as the case may be, will wear off on me and a bit of her will seep into my hungry soul. I'm not sure there are enough pennies in the world to fill my emptiness and longing for her.

All of these things that others do to connect to their loved ones who have passed seem valid enough, but have always left me feeling a bit empty.

Which brings me to this morning.

I awoke from the most vivid dream of being with her. She was sitting in a plush, wing back chair, book in hand, smooth, tan legs curled under her. Our exchange was brief, but ever so lucid.

I remember telling her I loved her, really loved her and she shook her head in acknowledgment. She said "I know, I know. I love you, too". Then, I leaned in and kissed her.

And with that, I awoke. My entire being felt full of love, full of certainty, full of her. It was such a calm mixed with the most bittersweet happiness I had felt in ages.

I will continue to *talk* to her while I run and I'm not likely to pass by a stray penny anytime soon.

But more than anything, I'll be waiting for her in my dreams.


  1. Oh another good one! The emotion and heartache come through clearly and as I read I believed. I really believed that she visited you in your dream.

  2. Thank you very much.

    She's come to me a handful more times over the years and I always get that same excited, energetic, joyous feeling when I awake.
    I must be really missing her.