I had a dream last night that I was showing my grandmother where we keep our coffee cups in this kitchen. It wasn't a particularly remarkable dream, except for the fact that my grandmother died a little over a week ago, and I have an admittedly questionable hunch that my dead relatives visit me when I'm sleeping. Or that they let me know when I'm sleeping that they visit me. Something like that.
After Mom died, I had many, many dramatic and excruciating dreams about her. I dreamed that she hadn't really died, but that I had spent all her retirement money. I dreamed that she had come back to see my kids. I dreamed that she didn't know she was dead, and that I was going to have to tell her.
With my grandmother, who was 95, I had a very ordinary, undramatic dream that she was emptying my dishwasher and asked where the coffee cups belong. I pointed to the cabinet above the dishwasher - "Up there." That was that. No drama. No hand-wringing. No choking sobs. Just putting away the dishes.
It's so incredibly fitting.
I'm still laughing over the image of her standing outside of heaven, saying, "Well, I guess I'll just go to Hell since no one's here to open the gates for me." She and her stories will be missed, my friend.
Posted by: An'Beppe | Thursday, 07 August 2008 at 04:57 PM
Oh, you think I'm going to give the world a chance to miss her stories? Maybe I'll start up a new feature here called Passive Aggressive Friday with Greatmom.
Posted by: ETB | Thursday, 07 August 2008 at 05:25 PM