In my wistful dreams, I hope to see my mother or hear the messages to strengthen me during difficult times. Sometimes, I am so busy in my dreams ~ colors, images, conversations, names and places, looking around and visually taking inventory ~ and wake up exhausted.
The only fragment I could recall yesterday was holding my mother’s glasses and looking through them. I knew that I could not see clearly because our prescriptions were not the same. Yet, I looked through them and recall thinking how our friend must have changed the lenses because suddenly I could see through them!
I don’t recall seeing my mother directly, but thought about how I was seeing through her eyes. Was it a message that she could see me? My own thoughts were that now I must see the world through her eyes. Perhaps, it is her vision, but my eyes that need to see clearly.
Where my mother saw rainbows, I saw rain. Where my mother saw trees, I saw the walls that framed them. Every day was an adventure for my mother and she greeted each one with a smile.
She continued to tell my father, as she woke each day, “One more day to say I Love You.”
I am struggling mightily to see the world through her eyes. Ironically, my eyes pick up colors and pay attention to things that I never looked at before. Perhaps she is pushing me softly, encouraging me, to look at things in a different way. As for myself, I see them and know how much my mother would have enjoyed a certain color, a toy, seeing the leaves change, and look forward to admiring the Thanksgiving table.
The visions I had hoped for have not occurred, but perhaps it is a Mother’s love giving me the gift of sight, and stepping out of the way, to let me look forward.