It's only a little after 6 a.m. here in Seattle and the first thing I wanted to do this morning was write this blog, before checking e-mail, before a shower, before breakfast.
I wanted to get this down before it left me (as dreams do). See, this morning I woke up from a dream of my mother. In the dream, we were in this little restaurant called Brickers (it's in the small downtown of my home; it's kind of a dive; but it's good, and the amazing thing is that it has barely changed one whit in probably 50 years). In my dream, I was with my sister, Melissa, and my niece, Becky and we had just eaten. As we were leaving, we saw my mother, just sitting on a chair pulled out by the door. She was very thin and frail, and was wearing a hospital nightgown. I stopped and talked to her. I don't remember what we talked about, but then we had to leave and my mom stood up and gave me a hug. I started out the door and turned around to say, "Bye."
Outside, I was alone and I was walking down the street in front of Bricker's. I was thinking of how tough my mother was. And I gradually started to come awake, still thinking of how tough my mother was and how she was going to beat this...and that she would be well again. She had been sick before and come back and this time would be no different.
And as I was waking and thinking these thoughts, reality intruded and reminded me that my mother had passed away last October.
I lay there for a while, the tears rolling out of the corners of my eyes, but not really unhappy.
See, I got to talk to my mom and hug her again. For just a brief moment, both in a dream and in real life, she was alive again. And that's no reason to be sad.
My son Nick, Mom, and me