Grief is a tricky bitch.
I have read a million articles trying to find out what kind of griever I am. Like a quiz from Facebook, Am I a Gladiator? Like Russell Crowe about to be slayed by a crazed man with a sword? Am I a Queen griever who stands stoic and alone in her kingdom who nurses her wounds from within. Or am I the angry 7 year old who has a meltdown like every day – kicking dirt up and breaking shit ?
I am all three and more. I have had days where I don the suit of armor and navigate around life determined to not fall apart. Angry that she is gone and this void in my life is deafening. I am slaying ghosts. Not her ghost , but the outlines of her that I see in almost every interaction of life.
As the queen , I am alone in my grief. No one would ever think I spent 45 mins in the bathroom crying. I don’t look like an actual griever I look like a lady ruling her kingdom. Hair and make up on point, no mascara blotches to be had.
This morning though, on the weekend before her birthday , I am the 7 year old melt down . Probably yesterday and the day before too when the unmistakable cranky stink eye face arrived. On Thursday when I was dropping the “What the F bomb” every third word. It’s the “It’s the – It’s not fair that you have a mom and I don’t.” kid stomp. I sat there stewing in my grief, not pretty at all.
Last night I dreamed of her again. The theme of the dreams are always ” I am not dead , I am here .” ” Or I was dead but now I am alive and I am in front of you.” I thought I was sleep grieving aka my brain is working out the loss in dreams because it is too much for me and awake me can’t deal. I decided to really listen to my subconscious and to test the theory in my “awakened” part of my life. The part where I throw reality as I know it , and science’s need to prove everything out the window. What if- she’s showing me that she’s only dead on the plane I exist on? She ‘s always alert, happy and healthy in my dreams. She’s younger in the sense that she is walking with no walker, with knees that work. She is alert and not in Alzheimer’s la la land. She tells me as in showing me mental pictures that she is with her mother and her best friend. I asked her about Jesus and what he looks like and she shows me a hand with a nail hole.Which I in turn interpret as the truth , that this dream is really a visit and she is showing me the promise of eternal life. I ask her about God and she shows me everywhere. God is everywhere. I cry my face off in the dream. I am sobbing and shaking and holding on to her for dear life. I want her here with me and I tell her over and over. There aren’t any words between us in the physical sense. I am just a girl hugging her mom in the moment crying about her bad day.
I think these dreams aren’t sleep grieving as much as they are actual visits . I think she is listening to my daily freak out about how much I need her. And I think she is coming to me via the only way she can for now. She is not dead where she is . Death is a concept for the living when the next phase for the soul arrives. It is the exiting of the plane we are on , It is the exchange; the closing of one door and the opening of another.
I woke up startled and still crying in the present … Time to gladiate today .