The other night, I dreamt I invited my mom to supper with me and The Guy. "I'm making stew," I told her, "and it wouldn't be much trouble." I woke up the next morning with the absolute belief my mother was coming for supper.
It's been almost five years since Mom died and still, when I dream about her, I forget she is supposed to be dead. It doesn't make me sad any more -- to wake up and realize she is not, in fact, joining me for supper. Now, it's just a fact of life, a recognition of what is real and what isn't. Sure it still sucks, but it's not soul crushing. It just is.
I find it interesting that my subconscious (or whatever part of my brain makes dreams) always has her playing herself but alive. I guess it lets me have a few normal moments with her again. I think I will take them and be grateful.
The stew wasn't ready on time and really didn't look appetizing when it was done, so it's likely not a bad thing she didn't show.