{April 4, 2014}   April Showers Bring Me Tears

momfriends My Mom is 2nd from the right, the hot redhead in green

Last night I dreamed of my Mother.
I’ve dreamed of her a few times since she died but I never saw her face in my dreams. It was always the back of her head, or just that dream-logic-knowledge that she was there with me in the dream. This was the first time I saw her face, looking back at me.
I woke up to a gray rainy day knowing I had a dentist appointment in a few hours, turned on the kettle and fed my meowing babies. As I plugged my phone into the charger I noticed there was a text message, it wasn’t until I began to read it that it hit me.
For those few minutes between waking and looking at my phone, I’d forgotten.
For those few minutes, I forgot my Mother was dead.
For the first time in nearly a year, I lost it. I broke down. Great heaving sobbing break down.
It’s no secret I’ve been in the dumps lately.
One of the little habits I have is writing everything down, little notes on a calendar like a mini shorthand diary.
So I knew the day before yesterday, April 2nd last year, she went to the hospital. Only now I am aware of the outcome.
Now I know the ups and downs, released to rehab perfectly fine, only to pass away less than 8 hours later.
I’m not wallowing in it, there are a lot of other reasons I’m not feeling up to par, but this, grief, it’s harder than I knew it would be and I don’t know how to do it right.
And I understand it’s different for everyone and we all deal in our own way but I don’t know my way.
I’m lost.
Because aren’t we always alone? When you break it down, we are alone. Or maybe it’s just my tunnel vision right now.
I hope it’s my tunnel vision.
A few hours ago my Dad called me. My cousin Doreen, my Dad’s (deceased) only Sister’s daughter, died today. She had stage 4 lung cancer. She was in her 60’s and I can’t count all the times I spent at the house with Doreen watching me when I was a child.
I should channel my grief into writing, this I know to be true.
I fear I need a few hours to process, although truth be told, all I want to do is go to sleep and find my Mom again.
I could use a Mom-hug, because there is nothing better.
Before I went to sleep last night, I prayed as hard as I could, I begged “Mom, please, I need you, please come to me in my dream, I just need my Mother” and she did.
Is it a coincidence because she was on my mind when I fell asleep?
I choose to believe it was her, because even though it was only a brief period of time, for a little while, my Mom was with me again.
But deep in my heart, I know she lives on through me as her blood flows through my veins.
I am truly my Mother’s daughter and for that reason alone, I am blessed.
momdad My beautiful Mom, with my Dad looking at the woman he was lucky enough to marry.


Warm hugs. That’s all. I have lost so many these past 5 years and so I do feel your pain. Baby steps. Focus on all the beauty around you, in her honor.

Andy says:

In your dreams and in your life, never feel that you are alone. It is you who has to deal with your grief, and revisit all those painful memories, but always step out and share with those who can support you. Not necessarily on here, but with those around you who care. It is you who is dealing with the hurt, but they can help you shoulder it. Sending warm wishes to you from the UK.

Hugs from me, my tears joined yours reading this post. I know that bitter-sweet feeling of the dream, and waking to remember that she is no longer there. It’s so tough, but it’s worth that hurt just to spend that time together again, even if it WAS only a dream

alienorajt says:

Nominated you for a couple of awards, dear Joanne:


alienorajt says:

My heart aches for you, Joanne. I am so sorry to hear about your cousin, your grief and sadness. I wish I were close enough to give you a hug or several. Grief works in jolting leaps: I still weep for my father (who died nearly seven years ago). I think your lovely mum DID come back to visit you last night; perhaps part of the reason was to pull the plug on your over-flowing ‘bath’ of sadness so that some of it could escape in a tide of tears. Thinking of you, Ali xxx

Sorry about your cousin, Joanne. Mysterious how the night you asked to see your mother I felt absolutely compelled to write that thing for you. {and her}

I also have to say that this is very good writing

And you are blessed in such a warm, loving, embracing and I would add here “Continuing” love for and with your mother…

Yes, she lives on in the blood, nurture, guidance,and love she gave you. And she lives on now, right here presently in the sharing of stories, reflective memories and your willingness to share this part of both you and your mother’s life and times… We are all alone and to our selves at times and yet, when we reach out, be it talking to a friend or relative, praying to a God of our understanding, reflecting with a counselor or writing and sharing our story on a “Blog” such as this, we have touched others who now have a vested and nurturing interest to care and to share their compassion and love with you… I would offer my sincere condolences and love for you during this time in your life… and hope you do know that we are here for you….-just look at the wonderful and comforting comments here this week… The pictures of your Mom and Dad are priceless…

So sorry to hear about your cousin… and again, my thoughts and prayers for you, your cousin, and your family and friends… Always…

Hey Joanne;
Just stopping by to check on you. I feel lost when trying to find some comforting words. Even if I know what I want to covey, the impact is lost in the writing. I do know this of a certainty, that truly you are exceedingly blessed to have had a mother that loved you and proved that love in word and deed.
You’ll never know what it’s like to have had parents and not be able to remember them saying the words “I love you” to you even once. My parents are both dead and to be completely honest, I feel nothing for them. I’m not going to get into a bunch of boring stuff. Just know at the same time you’re grieving … beneath it all you have wonderful memories and more important … you experienced a sincere love. I believe that’s what’s causing most of the pain; missing that love.
Take good care little lady.

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