Miss Mommy

I always miss my mom. Always. It's impossible to think of her without remembering I don't have her anymore. My shrink told me when people die, the people who remember them always forget the bad things and only remember the good things. But there were no bad things with my mom. I never told her I hated her, she never embarrassed me, and we never had a fight that didn't get resolved.

Every time I think of her I get happy and then there's this very fast punch in my chest when I remember. And that happy-sad thing happens so quickly that I kind of forget for a second what I was trying to think about that involved her.

At night sometimes I dream of her and the sad thing doesn't happen. It's like I get to spend hours with her again. I can never see her face, but I can feel her smiling and smell her and feel her touching me. In my dreams I get this rush of happiness when I see her and all the important things going on rush through my head. I want to tell her everything that's going on. But there's never a good time - I don't want to interrupt her, even though I can never remember what we talked about when I wake up. It's like we just gaze at each other happily or something. When I wake up I'm happy because I feel all warm and mommied and loved, for a few minutes. Then I remember, and then I try to go back and forget the real truth.

I wish the mommy dreams were every night. I wish there was something I could do to bring them. There isn't. That whole "think about what you want to dream of" thing does not work.