Remembering

I dreamt about her last night.  She was with dad, and I was meeting them somewhere before going to the hospital for another surgery.  She was fragile, but she was also young- very young, like a teenager.  I was worried because she was going to have another colon resection, and I didn't think she was strong enough to go through with it.  She was defiant, in her own special way, but also like a teenager would be defiant.  She didn't say a lot, she just kept snuggling into Dad's side, and eventually he walked away with her, his arm around her shoulder.  The rest of the dream I was just looking for them and telling everyone that she was too weak to have the surgery.

She hasn't died yet.  I hate that I'm already grieving as if she has.  Dreaming about her all night, crying in the shower, every thought seems to associate itself with her.  I looked through what I have written about her in here this summer, and so much of it is sad.  I want all my good memories to be washing over me too, not just this fear and sadness.  When I think of my mom, these are the images that come to mind:

-How soft her neck is when I hug her.  She has always had the softest skin of anyone I know.

-How she smells- she is the only person I have ever met who smells really great in patchouli oil, or any other sent she chooses to wear that day.  It doesn't matter, she always smells like Mom to me. 

-The feeling of love and safety that has always surrounded her.  No matter what else is wrong in my world, my Mom has always given that to me.

There is more to remember, so much more.  I'm going to make a real effort to write it down.  I want my kids to know her.  If they won't have an opportunity to grow up with her in their lives, the knowing is going to have to come from me.