Through this blog, written during my year of saying kaddish for my mother, Hilda Yael Kessler, may her memory be for a blessing, I attempted to reflect on and find meaning about the internal as well as ritualistic processes of mourning. I hope others may identify with and find some measure of comfort in its words.
Monday, January 16, 2012
I see and touch my mother!
I was told this could happen, a visit from my mother, z'l (may her memory be for blessing). Not a dream but a vision. Early this morning, in a half sleep half awake state, I beheld this scene: I was in my parent's home in the living room, lying down in a bed, similar to the way my mother in her last days lay in a hospital bed in the living room suffering from the pancreatic cancer that took her life. My parents then came home. My mother looked great, as she always did until her last days, looking smart in black pants and a red top. She said she felt great, especially as was still able to drive home despite her cancer. I began to tear up and she came to me and embraced me. I repeated the words that I had spoken to her a few weeks before she passed away, "thank you for being my mother, thank you." Just as I felt the warmth of her embrace, the vision abruptly ended and I was fully awake. The few moments that I felt her presence lifted my spirits through out the day. I imagine these moments of togetherness with her will be fleeting, sporadic and always unexpected.
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