One More Conversation With Mom

I gaze out the window at the midnight sky. I feel as small and insignificant as the tiny pinpoints of light in the wide expanse of darkness. I never felt that way while Mom was alive. Now that she's gone, I struggle to find any purpose in my life.

When she passed away, my whole world shattered. A world without her in it is as foreign as a world where the sun set one day and never rose again. I'm failing to claw my way out of this dark abyss of depression.

As I watch the sky, pondering the meaning of my life, I see a falling star. I feel as though I have met the same fate as this star that just fell out of its place in the sky.

As a child, I believed that any wish made on a falling star would come true. Tonight I make the impossible wish.

“I wish for one more conversation with Mom,” I tell the falling star.

The next day, I take a walk in the woods, savoring the solitude. I'm startled when I notice somebody sitting underneath a pear tree up ahead. I've never seen anyone else on my walks here before.

Coming closer, I freeze in shock when I notice who it is.

“Hi, baby,” Mom says, smiling, sitting in a wicker chair underneath the tree's shade.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” I ask her, dumbfounded.

“Isn't this what you wished for?” she asks, smiling brightly.

Tears stream down my face as I hug her tight, so happy to see her.

“You're not a ghost. You're just as real as I am,” I say, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the softness of her skin.

“I never stopped being as real as you are, honey. Not even when you couldn't see me anymore.”

“Where are we? Am I in Heaven? Are you on earth? I watched you die, Mom. How is this possible?” I ask, struggling to understand the mystery.

“The human mind can't comprehend it, honey. Don't try to understand it. Just sit down and talk with me,” she says, pointing at the chair next to hers.

I sit down, choosing to savor this time together. There is a sense of urgency, knowing that she'll be gone again soon. This feels different from a dream. I'm completely conscious and lucid. Still, I know that this is impossible. I don't care if it's just an illusion, though. I'm desperate to hold on to it for as long as I can. It's real enough for me.

“Do you forgive me, Mom? I feel like it was my fault,” I tell her, crying.

“I couldn't save you. It was too late,” I sob.

“You just vanish that thought right out of your mind,” she says, sternly.

“You're not the reason that I died. You're the reason that I lived. Your birth brought life back into me when I had been dead inside for years. I'll always remember you as the person who brought me life, not death.

Do you remember the day when the doctor told you that I wouldn't make it through another night?” she asks.

“Of course I remember,” I whisper, choked up.

“Love fueled me on to live for eight days longer than I was supposed to. It gave me the boost that sparked more life into me, allowing me to hold on for a little bit longer. That's why I thanked you for extending my life. My time had already expired, but I lived on borrowed time for eight more days. My love for you gave me the strength that made that possible.

My life had the perfect ending because of you, honey. You stayed with me so I could be at home. I was surrounded by my friends and family. You helped me to live like a queen in those last days.

I wouldn't have wanted to live for longer if I would have died alone or in a hospital. It happened just the way I always hoped that it would. I was in my own home, in my own bed, with you right beside me.”

“I wondered if you knew I was there,” I smile at the confirmation, though tears stream down my face.

“Why did you have that sad look on your face right before you passed away?”

“I heard you whisper in my ear, 'Don't be afraid. You're not alone. I'm right here.'

I tried to tell you that I loved you one last time. I just couldn't even remember how to form words anymore. That's why I looked sad.”

“I knew what you were trying to say, Mom. There was never any question in my mind about it.”

I take a deep breath before asking the next question, not sure if I really want to know the answer or not. I feel like I need to know, though.

“What was it like to die, Mom?”

“It's really hard to describe. There was nothing painful or scary about it like I was afraid there would be. For the last two days of my life, I hovered between two different worlds, but didn't belong to either one. There was no coming back to my life on earth, but I hadn't released my grasp on it yet.

I couldn't move on to the next place until I made the choice to let go of this life. That was really difficult to do with you standing right next to me. I thought that you were asleep, or I wouldn't have chosen that moment.”

“Watching you die was the most difficult thing I've ever done, but I would do it all over again a million times, Mom. I feel privileged to have been the one person who was with you in that moment. I'm glad it was me.”

“I'm glad it was you too, but I have a secret,” she says, winking.

“Nobody really goes into that place alone. Thousands of angels held their hands out to me, welcoming me to join them. Everyone I knew who had gone on before me was there. I felt like I was finally home. Earth seemed like the foreign place.”

“But I want you to come back, Mom,” I sob.

“You don't really want that, honey. Look what I can do now,” she smiles, standing up on two perfect legs.

“No more wheelchair for me. Don't wish for me to come back into my broken body, sweetie. You can't imagine how good it feels not to be in all of that pain anymore.

I'm still with you, just in a different way now. I hear you talk to me every day. I sing to your plants to make them grow beautifully. I sent the snow in May when you asked for a sign from me. I visit you in your dreams when the boundary between our worlds is more easily crossed.”

“Then I want to come be with you,” I plead.

“It's not your time yet, dear. Remember the special full moon that night? It was the Super Pink Moon. You knew that it was a sign, though you didn't know what it meant. That full moon symbolizes completion, and the pink moon symbolizes rebirth. It symbolized the completion of my life on earth and my rebirth into a new life.

I heard you talking to me that night. You said that you would be okay if I let go. You told me all of the plans that you had for your life. You said that you wished I would be there to see you do it, but you would tell me all about it someday. I hope you'll do all of it.

Whenever it's your time to join me here, I want you to be full of amazing stories about what you did with your life after I was gone. I'll see every moment of it from where I'm at, but I'll still love hearing about it from you.”

“How can I live in a world without you in it, Mom? I didn't know it would be this hard,” I cry.

“You don't have to live in a world without me in it. Keep me with you. Honor my memory by loving the life that I sacrificed everything to help you build. I want you to go through life with a smile on your face and love in your heart. I'm not as far away as you think I am,” she smiles, winking.

Everything evaporates away as I wake up.

“I should have known that was too good to be true,” I say to myself, sadly.

I look over at the clock on my nightstand and see a pear sitting next to it. I pick up the pear, puzzled. It's not an illusion. It's just as real as I am. I smile, determined to seize the day, knowing that love will fuel me on. There is life after death - for Mom, and for me.