Friday, October 14, 2011

Dear Mom

I had a dream about you the other night.  The first one in a long time.
I had a lot in the beginning, but in all of them you were always alive.
Talking.  Laughing.  Living life like you should be.
This time was different.  This time you had already died.
It was pretty disheartening to wake up knowing that now even in my dreams you're gone.
That even in my dreams you're slipping away.
I was cleaning out the freezer the other day and found a tupperware of your lasagna.  The date written on top in your handwriting.  I pulled it out and looked at it, remembering how you made it right after I went back to work when Jamie was born so I didn't have to cook..  How I ate it for dinner (and sometimes lunch) everyday for a week straight until you finally packed up and froze the rest for later.  I went to throw it out, but couldn't do it.  I couldn't throw away one more piece of you.  Even if it was just some year old frozen lasagna I will never eat.  So I put it near the back to deal with another day.
Then there's the last outfit you bought for Jamie.  It's still hanging in the closet, only worn once because I couldn't bear to let it get messed up.  All year as he would outgrow the countless other things you'd picked out, I knew I always had this one last outfit.  But now it's time to pack that one away too.
Some days are harder than others.  This month seems to be full of them.  It's just not fair.  I miss you.