Night Visitor

I keep dreaming about my mother. Every night. Sometimes we are laughing and talking on the phone. I woke up yesterday morning and wished I could call her to chat. I wanted to tell her stories about the kids. I felt close to her, to the part of her I loved so much.

I woke up this morning, at 4AM in tears. In my dream, she was alive but told me it was only for a moment. There were some things she did not want me to have. She took me through her house and said, no, no, no. At the end of the dream, she was dust again.

During the day, I am clear and feel grounded. Every night, I see her. It sends me spinning.

This Friday, there will be one more memorial service in Rochester. It is for the community. I have no idea what will be said- she did not want us involved in the process of saying the public goodbye. I will be there, with my children, in pressed suits, to honor her very public face.

She wanted it done her way. And it will be.

Maybe then I will stop dreaming about her every night.