Grief is a curious thing. These days I feel like I’m part of a science experiment, waiting to see each day the form grief will take. Early on I thought the listlessness I woke up with week after week was the result of a vitamin D deficiency or too much sugar in my diet or the blasted heat and humidity…until I talked to my sister and discovered she felt the same way. I’m not sure why missing my mom would drain me of energy to the point that I found nothing even remotely interesting or appealing, or why the mere thought of going about a normal day as if nothing was wrong made me want to hide under the covers like a child having a nightmare. Thankfully, as the summer has faded so has my lethargy.
I was actually feeling really good up until a few days ago. I thought maybe I’d reached a turning point. My mom’s birthday came and went, and I barely cried; instead I felt thankful and at peace. But now I think the permanence of my mom’s death is setting in, and I find myself wishing we’d just had more time.
I had a very vivid dream about my mom last night, my first one in a long time. In my dream, my sister and I were trying to make a pizza for us and my parents to eat. I was charged with finding the right pizza pan, but my parents’ kitchen (you might call it their “dream kitchen”) had about as many shelves as a department store, and I could not find the pan I wanted. My mom was across the street talking to a neighbor, and when I went over to her and asked her where to find the pan, she told me she was busy. So I continued looking, all the while getting angrier and angrier with my mom for not helping me.
When my mom finally came back home, she apologized for not coming home right away but said she wanted to talk with the neighbor. In my anger, I threw down the pan I was holding (apparently not the right pan) and stomped away. But my dad stopped me. He asked me if it was worth it to be angry with my mom over this. He told me I might regret it. At that moment, I (in my dream) knew my mom was actually dead. I said to my dad, “I think I understand what you’re saying.” And then I went back to my mom and gave her a hug so tight I could actually feel it, and she hugged me back.
Needless to say, I woke up rather confused.
I don’t place a lot of stock in dreams or pretend to know how to interpret them, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I wish I had taken better advantage of the opportunities I had to spend time with my mom and do stuff for her. I’m not angry with my mom; I’m frustrated with myself. I wish I had visited more often, called more often, offered to help more often. I wish I had asked her more about her childhood and college years and written down her memories. I wish I had loved her as selflessly as she loved me, but often the opposite was true.
Maybe this is the guilt stage of grief, if there even is one.
But God has always been and continues to be so good to me and my family. While I wander the land of “I wish,” I know it’s pointless to long for opportunities that I let slip away, and I’m continually reminded to be thankful for the opportunities I grabbed onto.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that my mom loved me as much as one human being could possibly love another, and I loved her as well as I knew how. There were no unresolved issues or conflicts. There were no hurtful words or actions left unforgiven. There was no bitterness or anger between us. What an incredible blessing!
Kev and I were talking recently about the week my whole family spent with my dad in Illinois after my mom’s funeral. We were reflecting on how even though I was a bit nervous about all of us being in close proximity for a week when we hadn’t been together for that long since the time all of us lived at home, it turned out to be a really good thing. At some point, Kev asked me what I’d like to be different if we were to repeat the experience in the future. I said, “For my mom to be there.” Kev said, “I don’t think she’d much like leaving heaven, even for that.”
He’s right. My mom’s experiencing joy we can’t even come close to this side of heaven. Though I often wish we could have her back just for a little while, the permanence of my mom’s new residence by Jesus’ side is something to rejoice about. And one day when we’re experiencing eternity together, we’ll have all the time in the world.
