I had a dream last night that my mom was in. I went into a cafe for a pastry and coffee and there she was, looking like she did in her last days except that she was walking and not in a wheelchair. She was a trainee at the shop, and she didn't recognise me due to her dementia. I placed my order, and she got several things wrong, so I walked her through it again. She was doing her best. The other staff there were very kind to her and helped her too.
I very much wanted to take her out of the shop and take her home. She had been essentially helpless for a decade, relying on my dad and me for her every need. What was she doing working in this place? But I looked harder: she seemed happy. She was slow, but doing the job with a smile on her face, really connecting with me as a customer.
She walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen, out of my sight. She was functioning and she was productive. I should stay out of it. She wasn't really my mother anymore, she was her own person on her own path. I felt both profoundly sad but also glad for her. She wasn't on death's door anymore. I knew I had to let go. Let her go.
I woke up feeling as if I were on the brink of death myself. A bit of a panic in my chest. I felt pulled to join her in the afterlife. I miss her so much. I love her still, I always will. I do, in most cases, enjoy when she comes to me in dreams. Often as a young healthy woman, sometimes in middle age and still vigorous. Rarely as her old self, suffering from Parkinson's disease and dementia. It's been three years now and I still get the notion to call her on the phone and tell her about my grandchildren, her great grandchildren, or the new couch I bought for the living room.
Instead, I speak to her from this side of the veil, and invite her in to see me whenever she wishes.
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