The Lord is so very good to me. He knows exactly my heart and my hurts.

This week, I’ve found myself dwelling on *that night*…the details, the sounds, our last words.

I’ve done so well to try and think of other things, but this week, it’s just hung there.

Anger has once again squeezed in….. My mama fought a hard fight. I think I knew I was losing her. I just wanted her to be here a little longer.

These last couple of days, I’ve thought much of my father. I have NO memories of my parents having even one conversation.

Just typing that seems odd to me, but it’s true.

I do remember one particular night when there was a huge argument but that’s it- nothing more.

Why now do I need him so much to know what’s happened? Why does my heart hurt like this?

The Lord gave me an amazingly, wonderful gift last night.

I’ve only had one dream of Mama since she passed. She was sitting in her chair. She had lost her hair already.
She sat and just looked at me. She had the softness in her face that I loved so much. No words were spoken. It was nice to see her again.

It’s so odd, but I’ve wanted to dream of her again. My heart has ached to have just one more conversation with her.

Last night, the Lord allowed me to dream.

Mama was with us. We knew she was sick.

Then my father arrived with his wife. I have no idea why, but he sat with Mama and I, and we told him that she was sick.

He said the same things that I had thought for so long, “but she looks so normal”.

I told him I knew, but we had seen the scans and we knew she wouldn’t live long.

They sat and talked and resolved the things that lingered between the two of them.

He told me he was so sorry. I wept.

This morning, I awoke to feeling so overwhelmed and grateful that the Lord would allow me that exchange- even in my dreams.

I know *He* will heal. I need patience.