Susee Mable's Silent Meditations

Circa 1979, Berrien Springs, Michigan     “Trust. Let go. Enjoy the ride” In the days following her passing I dreamed of mom repeatedly. Most of the dreams were of her miraculous return home, where our family would care for her until she was fully healed,—the joy shattered by waking into reality. These dreams haunted me for months, the narratives changing slightly each time adding to my pain and anxiety. The following November, I dreamed that I was in a bookstore in the early evening, the darkness had settled in as I searched for something to pique my curiosity. I was about to pick up a book when I noticed a large window peering out toward a busy intersection. A woman had walked up to cross the street carrying packages of Christmas gifts. When she turned I caught a glimpse of her unmistakable profile. It was mom as she had been when I was five, wearing that dark green winter coat, the coat I would look for as she’d pick me up from kindergarten. I called out “mom” and she turne...