Painful thoughts about my mom, who died last August, were on my mind before I fell asleep. It’s been almost a year since mom’s been gone, and I still create scenarios about what more I could have done to make her life better as she struggled with advanced dementia.
I blame myself for not putting in more effort to take her out-and-about and to bring people into her home to visit with her. I pretty much blame myself for everything, especially within the social realm, that I could have done but didn’t.
Why didn’t I do these things?
I was afraid.
Afraid of what?
I was afraid of imposing on people.
In her right mind, the consensus was mom was a woman of unique strength. She was the epitome of a “social butterfly.” She worked hard and she played hard. She would do anything for you and she never asked for anything in return. Mom was tough in body and mind—until she wasn’t any of those things.
Once dementia moved in to mom’s living space, she moved out and never returned. The saddest part about this is she never said good-bye. This thought still shakes me to the core, so I try not to think about it.
Sometimes, I can’t let go of the negative.
My thoughts before I fell asleep last night were unforgiving.
My dream gone bad was the only way for my mind to process my thoughts.
If only, before I shut my eyes last night, I would have interjected this one small piece of peace into the swirling cloud of negativity that took over my thoughts, “I forgive you, Sandy.” Then, maybe my dream would have stayed a dream.
Forgiveness heightens the dreamworks of your mind during the night and wakes you in the morning with the kiss of contentment.
No matter what you’ve done or you didn’t do, forgive yourself.
It’s the only way (for you and me) to rest in peace.