Dear Son,
Your sister told me about the dream she had on Sunday night. You came for a visit. She wrote it all out for me and I have shared it with some folks.
When she talked about it I felt like it was more than a dream – it really sounded like things you would do and say. Whatever it was it was comforting.
Your sister is a vivid dreamer and often her dreams are troubling. It was so nice to hear the lilt in her voice as she talked of her time with you in her dream. I’m glad she wrote it out too. She carried it with her all day and it made her day better.
Eighteen months since I last saw you. In less than a month will be your 31st birthday. I can barely make my fingers move on the keyboard. Reality is so shocking. Perhaps that is why I prefer the dream.
I won’t relate the dream here but in it you said you were aware of the things we were doing. You “remembered” things at her wedding, but you were busy in your own right and your observance of us was more like “looking in” every now and then. You took her to the place where the accident happened and reassured her it was not a scary place, but in fact beautiful. You told her when you parted with us again that we should not fear. You told her that “you can do this.”
We are trying.
I stay busy most of the time. My art work consumes much of my time. I can be absorbed in it for hours and my mind runs into old familiar ruts. I think I need to call your dad, your sister and you. I am startled and shocked and grieved again.
I continue to struggle with what I believe. It would be so nice to believe that the dream was real.
I suppose I have as much right to believe that as anything. Maybe I’m a bit envious, though that really is not the word I want, that I have not had such a dream. Though I will express thanks that I have not had bad dreams about you either.
I miss you. Life is not the same without you.
The “doing” takes a lot of effort.
Life itself is a reminder of you. You were good at living life examining the potential for each day thoughtfully and deliberately.
You taught me so much. You were generous in your praise and encouragement. I try to remember that most of all. I try sweetheart. I want you to be able to recognize me if indeed you are able to see.
I love you so much.
Thanks for putting up with me, loving me unconditionally and urging me on.
Forever
Mom
ofmenandmountains 
Thank you once again –
Lovely and comforting dream! I, too, am “envious” of your daughter, as I have never had such a dream and would very much love to. However, I do take vicarious pleasure in other people’s dreams and at times, like you, believe that perhaps they are more than dreams, maybe even messages. My daughter has had a few message-type dreams and I find them temporarily comforting and encouraging. I wish I would have them. But, then it is just so sad to realize that I am grasping at anything that provides a connection to my son, even a dream.
We also have a birthday approaching quickly, the first without him. I can’t even bear to think about it.
Hugs to you.
On the first birthday after loosing our son we took a trip to a city he really liked. As it turned out, the anticipation of the day was far worse than the day was in reality. Give yourself lots of space and “a way out” of all situations. Hope the day is filled with good memories and a smile for the sake of your well-loved Graham.
My son “visits” me from time to time. It’s comforting even though some of the dreams have been strange. I put my young son onto a horse and galloped through the forest, jumping logs that had fallen across the trail, and each time he fell off I put him back onto the horse and did the same thing. I woke up feeling ashamed even though I knew it was a dream. Crazy eh?
I don’t think it is crazy at all. I think we cope however we can. Endure. That’s all we can do.
Pam, I’ve had dreams about Hannah running. I haven’t had one of those in a long time and I’ve never had one like that about Lucas. I don’t think very often about how I don’t have expectations for their futures. I don’t really allow for that. I don’t dare. I’m not sure when I stopped. They are doing very well right now, but when I try to dream about their futures I don’t get very far because I fear disappointment. Unimaginable disappointment. It’s a part of being a parent that is missing from my experience with them. I’ve just recently found out about a family whose son has cancer. My thoughts were, so his parents will now join the club I’m a part of. The one I don’t/can’t explain to another parent. The one you were in with your daughter years ago. The one where you look at your child and wonder if they will survive. It’s so true that none of us are promised our next breath, but that’s not how parents operate. It’s not fitting to have to think that.
I hope it doesn’t bother you that I write these things. I can’t think of another person I would say this to except you. Our situations aren’t the same. I’m so sorry for the loss of your precious son. I love you. Paige