three years

I've been dreaming a lot about my mom lately. Usually, there are two scenarios in which she shows up in my dreams: either I need help or advice or I meet her (and Dad, too) in some kind of transitional place, like an airport. It's never a shock or surprise to see her in my dreams. It's only when I wake up that I realize that I got to spend some quality dream time with her. Whenever I see her in the airport dreams, I give her a nice long hug, like the one we shared when I said goodbye before moving to France. That was the last real hug we shared; I'm glad it was a good one.

Today marks three years since she died. It fills me with even more sadness that she died in May, a month that was once full of celebrations - our birthdays are a week apart, plus Mother's Day.

I often think back to our last telephone conversation. Her health had been steadily fading but suddenly in this conversation she agitated and excited as she urged us to start trying to have a child as soon as possible. She was concerned because of my history of PCOS and her own history - it had taken her and Dad three years to conceive. In the end it took us two years. Both she and Dad were anxious to become grandparents. They would have been good ones, too. But above all, she knew how much I wanted to be a Mom.

I miss her so much. I need her now more than ever.