Oh thank God. What a bad dream!
The first time I woke it took several long seconds before the evening before came into clear focus and I realized, no, it's not a dream. Katie nursed and I cried as I try to accept the shear shock of it all. I would go back to sleep, only to wake up a few hours later and go through the same rollercoaster of emotions.
Whew! What a bad dream!"
Each time it happened it took less time to process. By the final time at 6 am I could feel my conscience side trying to tell me before I went through it again:
No! It's real! Don't do this! It really happened!
But it was too late. I rode the rollercoaster again.
Ugh, what a bad dream. I'll have to tell Larry- oh no, not again. It really happened.
It was like hearing the news for the first time over and over again.
I've waited a long time for that phone call. When you find yourself at 9 years old riding in the car next to a woman who has a brown bag with an open bottle of vodka in her lap, drinking from it at stop lights as you look out the window and cry and pray for safety, you don't expect to see a lot of candles on her birthday cake. But I do not feel the way I expected to feel. I feel so sad. I find it incredibly tragic that she spent her last days continuing to fight the demons that weighed down on her. I find myself trying to process what else I feel. I spent so many years feeling hurt and angry at her, followed by years of trying to forgive her, then several more trying to figure out what forgiveness even looks like. I feel joy for her as I know she is in Heaven with Jesus, who she loved without measure. I always saw my mom as a free spirit fighting to get out of her cage on Earth. I know now she is laughing a clear, sober, genuine laugh in pure freedom.
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