I'm not sad for me, I'm sad for you

"Does it get better?" she asks me, wet eyes seeking mine.

"It does." I answer.

"When?"

"Everyday it's a little better. Today is better than when you got the call. Tomorrow will be better than today."

"I don't feel better."

"Some days you can't feel the better. Some days you're so numb you wouldn't know better if it smacked you upside the head and called you Earl."

She laughs.

"I still get mad and then I feel worse than before." She confesses.

"Me too."

"Really?" She seems surprised.

"Yep. Some days I'm so mad I can't talk. Some days I'm so sad that I feel like I'm drowning. But those days are less and less now. Mostly it's just around her birthday and the day she died."

"So that won't go away?"

"No, probably not. Or if it does it takes longer than 5 years. Or maybe just a better person."

"I wish I had known. I wish I had time to tell her...."she starts to cry.

"You never would have felt like it was enough. I promise you. You would constantly wish for one more day, one more phone call, one more conversation. It would never be enough."

"I try to see her in my dreams but I never do." She's crying in full now.

"I was so mad for a long time too. Everyone else saw my Mom in their dreams but me. It was like she said goodbye to everyone else but ignored me. Months later she finally came to me in a dream.

She told me that she had heard I wanted to talk to her one last time. She sat down at my kitchen table and told me about Heaven. She described it kinda like Florida for retired people. She complained about the smallness of her garbage can. She was wearing a pink sparkly shirt, something she never would have worn before. She told me she loved me. She told me she was proud of me. She told me she was sorry she had to go so soon." now I'm crying and laughing.

"So you think I'll still see her?"

"I do. But you can't make that happen. You have to trust that you'll get the message you're supposed to get when you're supposed to get it."

"I still want to call her. Everyday."

"I still pick up the phone to call her sometimes. Or I think to myself, I can't wait to tell Mom about this." I'm pulling myself together finally.

"I don't know who else to talk to. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"You didn't make me cry. I'm sad for you. I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

I mean it. I'm really not crying for my mom.

I'm crying because she just lost hers.

For my friends Kim and Theresa who both have lost their mothers in the last 6 weeks. It really does get better.