Mother, the sweetest name in the human language. Most understanding, most caring, most loving friend… My mother was a beautiful and generous woman. Her heart was good and pure. She took great pride in her home; from sewing curtains to making own flower arrangements. She loved to cook, bake and entertain. There was always someone visiting the house, and she was always ready with the kitchen table filled with her delicious creations. She appreciated complements on her food, style and home. My mother loved to dance. She dressed with elegance and class. And whenever her and my father went out dancing, I could tell it brought her happiness. This was her way to enjoy the short life she knew she would live. It wasn’t easy. I’m sure she struggled everyday with physical or emotional pain. Yet, she rarely showed it. She didn’t like others to see her at her weakest. She didn’t like when family or friends visited her at the hospital. She always told them to come when she can be herself, and at her best… I wish I remembered more. With time most memories faded, and I only recall events in glimpses. I do remember moments from my childhood when she wanted me to sit on her lap. I loved to hug her. The closeness made me feel safe. My mother was very understanding; I was a difficult teen daughter. I supported untraditional ideas and argued all the time. I pushed boundaries and her patience to the limits. However, I knew when to stop. I knew when I pressed too hard. I would always apologize; she always forgave. A mother’s heart.
…My mother doesn’t appear in my dreams often; however, during the past few weeks her presence makes me wonder about her purpose. Last night, she came on my wedding day. I was standing in a white gown in the middle of a church aisle. As she walked down towards me, she looked beautiful, youthful, healthy and happy. She extended her arms and embraced me. We stood there for quite a while, holding each other tight. And while in my mother’s arms, I felt comfortable and at peace. She wanted me to know she is always with me… When I woke up, I tried to interpret this dream, but I accomplished little. The most important images that stayed with me consist of: my mother’s happy spirit, my emptiness, and the church. This unexpected combination makes this dream even stranger. So, I will no longer ponder about the significance of it, since most dreams can’t be explained. All I know is that I miss my mother. I wish she was here with me. I wish she would hold me and tell me all will be ok. But then again, I think she just did…