Unfinished longing

Here I'm writing about my loving mom again.

There was one day, at the hospital. It was probably a week or two before she passed away. She told me she had dreamed the night before. In her dream, she had died in the hospital. She could see all of us, my siblings, my dad, surrounding her in her final moments. Then she was brought home, and the whole family was there.

I immediately told her to stay strong, that she would be okay, and that she needed to think positively. She calmly told me that she wasn't thinking negatively. She was positive. If she wasn't, she wouldn't even be at the hospital receiving treatment in the first place. I just nodded. The truth was, I didn't want to have that conversation. I didn't want to talk about death. I didn't want to entertain the thought that one day my mom would no longer be here. I was too afraid to even imagine a life without her. So I brushed it aside, hoping that it was just a dream and that everything would be okay.

But two weeks later, my mom left us.

And everything happened almost exactly as she had described in that dream. I still think about that conversation. I wonder how she felt when she told me about it. Was she simply sharing a dream, or was there something in her heart that she somehow knew? I guess I will never know. I wish I had known then how little time we had left. Maybe I would have hugged her a little longer, held her hand a little tighter.

It's hard to believe that it has been four years. Four years of learning to live in a world where I can no longer call my mom, hear her voice, or simply go home and find her there. I thought time would make this easier, but no, the longing is just as heavy. I still struggle with living without her. I still wish I could do more for her. There are so many things I wish I could tell her, so many little moments I wish I could share with her.