All Saints’ Day is fast approaching.
This is going to be the first time my mom will be celebrating this occasion no longer as one of us, but as one among those who have gone before us.
I had a vivid dream about her one night.
I saw her going down the house stairs and when she reached the bottom I came to her and hugged her tight.
But she told me that we should let her go.
“Do the things that you weren’t able to do when I was sick.”
I think I woke up after that.
I don’t know if the pain really ever does go away.
Certainly it gets masked by the distractions and the busyness of daily life – they somehow keep my mind off my grief for a while.
But when the day comes to an end and I am finally alone with my thoughts, it only goes back to the surface, like a videotape in a constant rewind.
Perhaps it is in those moments where I draw strength from the words my mom told me in my dream, find peace in quiet conversations with God, and seek comfort in the solemn recitation of the Rosary.
And then I’ll fall asleep.