Today, after over indulging in Halloween candy, I feel a bit hung over. Doug bought large candy bars to give out and this year was the first year I have handed out candy to children, what was I supposed to do?
Actually, I think the crummy feeling that I have in the pit of my stomach is simply grief. At times it is impossible for me to differentiate emotions. Am I upset that Chris hasn’t messaged me back? Am I really frustrated with my co-worker for saying that? Did I eat too much candy? I’m sure the answer is yes to all three but it gets complicated when everything I do is underscored with the sadness I feel because my mom is gone.
|I know it doesn't look like much, but 6-year-old|
Abe Lincoln got pretty excited.
I had a nightmare a few nights ago. It wasn’t the kind that forces you out of sleep, where you suddenly find yourself conscious and panting in front of the bathroom mirror. This nightmare haunted me in the passing days. I dreamed I was with the entire family and mom had made massive amounts of chocolate chip cookies. It was my job to ensure it didn’t get destroyed and every part of the cookie dough was to be rolled into balls and stored in the freezer. Because this is such a large task, I kept approaching my mother for advice, and every time I did she would be folding herself into a box at her funeral. Her body morphed, deflated and creased to fit into a medium-sized, square box.
My mom was never a woman to put emphasis on messages delivered in dreams but I can’t help but notice that my subconscious was shouting this message me. I don’t want my mom to be put into a box along with her memories and lessons taught. I was fixated on this thought as I ran errands and decided to tell mom about my fear. It was then I envisioned her fully dressed, colorful, garbed in jewels saying to me, “Maggie, no one is going to put me in a box and forget me. I’m too fabulous!” But instead of fabulous, a hundred superlatives buzzed around my brain.