When I woke up, I realized I was dreaming about my mother again. I was angry at her, in the dream...again.
Mother! Mother! Where are you? I'm here all alone. I've been calling and calling for you. Mother! Where are you? Why aren't you here with me?
Grief doesn't manifest itself very well in me. Neither does love. I asked my mother once why she only ever attended three or four out of the countless theater performances I was involved in, and she said, "Because you never told me they were happening." I don't accept love well. I guess, I feared she wouldn't go if I told her, so I never told her.
In a world where nothing lasts, complete love and complete surrender to another person seems fairly cruel. It's not just that we were given and then taken away that makes it cruel, but that we were given, then made to feel we could never do without, and then taken away. I am convinced there's a fairly large number of people who only believe in heaven because there's someone they miss so much that the only way they can bear it is with the belief that they will be reunited one day.
Mother! Mother? Where are you? You said you'd be here, but you're not.
My mother loved the book, "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch and illustrated by Sheila McGraw.
Softly she sings to him:
"I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
As long as I'm living
My mommy you'll be."
