Glimpses of Mom and Dad

I rarely remember dreams these days. Four months and 10 days ago, on Sunday, August 18th, I slept later than usual, in part because I was still recovering from my first (after all this time) experience having COVID. I had a vivid dream with a lot going on. My mom showed up towards the end and I recall we didn’t seem to know that she had died in real life. This was different than the dreams I have had with Dad, in which he/we did know about his death. I reflected on this after I first dreamt of Mom in May (about 10 1/2 months after she died).

I was really excited to have had my second Mom dream, which took place 13 months after she died, and I haven’t had another since. As with previous dreams I’ve had of both parents since their deaths, I typed notes on my phone, while anything I could recall was fresh in my mind. In this dream, Mom was alone (we were aware that Dad had died, as in real life) and living in Wisconsin (I think). I believe it was Whitefish Bay, near where my sister Meg and her family live. Mom had her own house. My family and I also had a home there. It seems we’d all recently moved there. I noted that we lived about 1.5 miles apart. Mom wasn’t using a rollator anymore, but she still had some medical/health challenges.

At the beginning of my dream I recalled that I was shoveling snow around our new home, but then the sun came out and a lot melted. At the end of the dream, close to when I woke up, Mom and I were going to run errands together. However, at that moment we were walking together, I think in the middle of the street. That’s when I noticed she wasn’t using the rollator.

We’d also looked up our homes on a map and saw how far apart they were. Ours was closer to the lake. Hers was near what looked like a forest preserve. We agreed we’d walk there to check it out soon. That was an interesting element of the dream, as Three Crowns Park (TCP), the long term care community where Mom lived for the last four years of her life and with Dad for the last two of his, was close to a small forest preserve/wooded area. It is actually located in between where they lived and our home here in Evanston. I often walked through the woods en route to visit Mom. Unfortunately, Dad never got to see our house here in E-town, which I know he would’ve absolutely loved, as Mom did.

In my dream, it seemed we didn’t know all of our neighbors yet. It was unclear if Sean and Gail were still at home/living with us. I think Mom lived near a school (as she did at TCP, which is also where she worked as a Reading Specialist for many years before she retired). From one of our houses we were close to a main street with a CVS and other stores (this is similar to my sister and her family’s current home). I remember thinking Bob would like that for getting milk, as needed. He appreciates having a place like that easily accessible, though we don’t have one particularly close to our current home in real life. The city/neighborhood in my dream seemed new to us.

Mom and I were definitely talking in the dream and she seemed healthier and more mobile than at the end of her life. I wish I remembered more of what we discussed. I vaguely recalled that Mom seemed a bit nervous/anxious, maybe related to a to do list and the errands she wanted us to run.

When I wake up from dreams I am able to remember, I often try think of anything recent that may’ve been in my subconscious, which could have inspired the topics or themes. On Saturday, August 10th (8 days before my dream), we drove up to Whitefish Bay to visit my sister and her family. Her husband’s mom, whom we all enjoy spending time with, was in town for a longer visit and we often try to see here when she is there.

I had finally stopped testing positive for COVID and though I was still feeling lethargic, my main symptoms were gone. When I tested positive at the end of our vacation on Hilton Head Island (HHI) in July, it cut short the time we could hang out with my sister and her family, who joined us there during the second week. So it was also an opportunity to make up for some lost time.

After our BBQ dinner, Bob and I went for a walk with my sister Meg and her husband around their beautiful neighborhood near the lake. We went at a slower pace, since my energy and endurance level was still low from COVID. Meg mentioned during our walk that the route was one Mom and she had taken together many times, when Mom and Dad would visit them and their kids, which they often did weekly when they were healthier and living more independently. I imagine that our visit and walk around their town may have influenced the dream I had of Mom.

Another factor may’ve been an encounter I had during the second week of our family vacay on HHI. The morning of Tuesday, July 23rd (10 days after the first anniversary of Mom’s death and the day before I started having COVID symptoms and tested positive), as we approached the the beach for high tide to ride waves and hang out, I noticed something to the left of the boardwalk. It was a red rollator, that appeared to be the same color, make and model that my mom used for the last two or so years of her life. I took this photo of it, with Bob and the kids walking ahead of me.

There were so many moments during our two weeks on HHI when it felt like Mom/Grandma Jacquie and/or Dad/Grandpa Kevin were with us, sending us signs — from meaningful songs to seeing things that immediately made us think of them. In this particular instance, I could picture Mom standing there, holding onto her red rollator, and welcoming us to the ocean that day. We have lots of wonderful memories of time spent at the beach with Mom, both on HHI and in Evanston.

I am grateful when I have these kinds of experiences, which bring me some comfort, as I continue to adjust to life/a world where my parents have died. I shared about this in a post on Facebook and Instagram, on Sunday, August 11th, a week before my dream, which may have had the rollator (or lack thereof) on my mind.

I’ve been tinkering with this post for several months since my dream, as life has been whirlwind for many reasons, including my busiest quarter (fall) at work/Northwestern University (NU)/Medill, traveling for work to London in early September, an ongoing bout with vertigo that began there, challenges that come with parenting and a big home renovation project that began in early October.

One of the perks of working at NU is “winter recess” which includes additional paid time off around/between Christmas and New Years. I have been determined to balance rest and relaxation with getting some things done around the house during my break. One of my favorite things to do when I have down time is writing/blogging and thus I am returning to this post to wrap up and share.

In recent days our family has been watching some of our old favorite holiday movies, including The Family Man and The Family Stone. I had already named this post “Glimpses of Mom” (and later added “and Dad”) when we watched Family Man and I was reminded that Jack Campbell’s experience exploring a path he didn’t take in life was referred to as a “glimpse.” Especially at this age and stage, from time to time I wonder about alternate versions of my life. In discussing those thoughts with my therapist, she helps me to see how every possibility would have pros and cons, which the movie illustrates well.

We started Family Stone on Christmas, when we got home from celebrating at my sister’s house in Whitefish Bay and finished it the next day. I was struck this time, by watching a moving scene with characters Ben and Meredith, during which he tells her about a dream that he had. In Ben’s dream Meredith was shoveling snow in front of the Stone home and that reminded me of my shoveling snow in front of our house in the dream I had about Mom. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever made it through the end of Family Stone without crying and these last two holiday seasons, since Mom died, the storyline related to the family’s mother hit me especially hard.

One of Mom’s go to phrases, especially in her later years and during times of uncertainty, was “more will be revealed,” which I continue to appreciate and think of often. My supervisor at work recently introduced me to another one, that is also a song, “let the mystery be.” I’d been meaning to check out the song by Iris DeMent and finally did earlier this month, while out walking in our neighborhood. I found the lyrics thought provoking and Iris’s voice captivating.

“Let the Mystery Be” by Iris DeMent is #189 on Rolling Stones list of 200 Greatest Country Songs of All Time and has been covered by groups like 10,000 Maniacs. Her music is described as a blend of country and folk on Second Hand Songs, a really cool database of song covers that I came across while writing this post. As an aside, I wonder if my dad, who was really into folk music, ever listened to Iris before he died. I continued down an Iris DeMent rabbit hole and happened upon this blog entry, in which I learned that “at one point she was a regular on A Prairie Home Companion,” which my Dad was a huge and devoted fan of. That tells me that Iris was likely on Dad’s radar, though I don’t recall him mentioning her to me.

All of this to say, I frequently have glimpses of Dad through hearing singers/music groups that he enjoyed and/or shared with me over the years. A few months ago I added some additional songs to our family workout playlist, which we listen to on shuffle. One morning, “Getting Better” by The Beatles came on. I said, “Grandpa Kevin loved this song.” Sean responded with, “You say that about a lot of songs.” Then Sean paused briefly and added, “I know it’s true.” I continue to be grateful for my dad introducing me to so many awesome artists and songs throughout my life. It is one of the ways I feel/stay connected to him three and a half years since he died.

Another meaningful way that I’ve been able to feel/stay connected to and get regular glimpses of Mom over the 18 months since she died is through reading letters that she wrote, saved and passed on to us. I intended for this to be a separate blog entry at some point. However, in wanting to share a bit about it now, decided to incorporate my notes from one I’d been working on.

Mom and her mother/my maternal Grandma Dee saved over 30 years of weekly letters that Mom wrote to her parents between 1964 – 1995 (with some gaps), as well several others mixed in from her Mom, her Dad/my Grandpa Jack and my dad. This was especially the case while Mom and Dad were planning their wedding in 1965. Noting that today, December 28th, would’ve been my parents’ 59th anniversary.

Mom’s letters are an incredible time capsule, family history, love story and so much more. It feels like when we binge watch a mini series, as I find myself thinking about them in between when Gail and I read them together. The letters humanize my parents, as well as other family members and friends who are mentioned. The letters have also made me love and miss my mom and my dad even more. Another reason I find them so fascinating, is that I often have some context around their words, which I am able to think about and share with Gail.

Mom’s letters are an incredible gift and I will take good care of them. Mom was a very private person, so I will be mindful of what I choose to share with others about we read and encourage Gail to do the same. I thought I might read one a day every morning this year, however Gail wanted for us to go through them together and once we got started, we couldn’t stop with just a few. It’s become a favorite pastime and we look forward to reading them again, after we finish our first time through. We’ve already re-read a few of our favorites! We’ve also taken to bringing them on long car rides and even road trips — including our trip to HHI this summer, which was fitting, so Bob and Sean get to hear some of them as well.

Gail and I were surprised that “Mom’s Letters” start off with a one from Dad to Mom’s parents right after he left the seminary in 1964. Dad had been in formation for nine years — starting as a freshman in high school through his first year of graduate school. It’s a story we’ve heard Dad/Grandpa Kevin tell many times and never knew that he wrote and sent them a letter, after first calling Mom to ask her out (she was actually already out on a date with someone else at the time).

As much as I loosely knew the letters existed, that Grandma Dee had saved them and that Mom had worked to organize them at some point in recent years. I don’t think I grasped the enormity of what they are. Mom put them in chronological order, in yellow manila file folders by year, filling three small file/organization boxes. I wonder now if Mom didn’t want me to spend as much time with them until after she was gone?

Mom and Gail had started reading through them together in 2023, before she died in July. They’d mostly focused on the years when I was around Gail’s age then (13), as that’s what Gail was most interested in. I was often consumed by other tasks (typically in the name of helping Mom around her her apartment at TCP) and didn’t feel I could take the time with them, though they shared some highlights. It would’ve been really nice to have read some all three of us together back then and I understand that we make the best situational decisions we can with the information/resources we have at the time.

As of today, when Gail and I read a bunch from the end of 1989, we’ve made it to January 1990 — when I was almost 15 and heading into my second semester of ninth grade at Evanston Township High School, as 15 year old Gail will be doing in the new year. We look forward to making our way through the last five years of letters in the days to come.

I love long form journalism (such as articles in The New Yorker magazine, which my Dad subscribed to for many years) and this blog post has turned out to be lengthy. One of my challenges when writing like this, can be tying everything I want to share together. Hence, why I take my time and don’t always finish them right away. I appreciate the challenge of weaving a thread through my words. What began as an entry about my second Mom dream since she died grew into a post about ways that I am able to find meaning and connection to my parents since their deaths in 2021 and 2023. My grieving brain appreciates the glimpses I get of Mom and Dad, as I continue to process and adapt to a world in which they are no longer living, as well as incorporate what I learned from being raised and so very loved by them. I am incredibly grateful that Kevin and Jacquie got married 59 years ago today.

I’ll leave you with this sweet photo of them from December 2003. It is one of my favorites — taken two months after Sean (their first grandchild) was born and two weeks before their 38th wedding anniversary. Mom was 61 and Dad almost 63, which is closer to the age I am now (49) then they were when they died (each at age 80).