One night, I was sitting in the living room of my childhood home. Instead of resting on a chair or the couch, I found comfort on a high-top wooden table. I was high enough off of the ground where my feet could barely touch the floor beneath me. Without thinking about it, I found myself leisurely swinging my legs back and forth. It’s funny how sitting on something slightly elevated off of the ground can make you feel like a kid again. I was seated directly across from my mother when I noticed how young she appeared. It was as if she was 20-years-old again. As I was admiring her youthful presence, she looked at me directly and intently. “I know you are hurting about Kayla, Amber,” she said to me…..without saying a word. I silently responded with, “Mom, I am fine. Please don’t worry about me.” Honestly, I was really having an overwhelming moment of grief and didn’t want to tell her because I knew she would worry. But, amazingly, we seemed to be communicating telepathically with each other. I wanted to verbally tell her how I truly felt, but, I simply could not speak; nothing would come out of my mouth. Maybe this explains the bond between a mother and her daughter. Somehow, we have the capability to just know how the other one is feeling. A mother never stops worrying about her daughter….no matter how old she is….And, a daughter never wants her mother to worry about her. But, I have learned over time that it is impossible to take all of the anguish and anxiety away from a mother when it comes to concern for her children.
While visiting with my mother, something unbelievable happened. When I stood up from sitting on the wooden table I felt something in my right hand. It was not painful or uncomfortable; it was just there. I looked down at my clinched fist and carefully opened my hand with one finger at a time unsure of what I might find. Surprisingly, there was a message written in the palm of my hand. The ink was very black and looked like it was written with a Sharpie pen. When I read the message, the familiar feeling of shock overwhelmed me. It felt like a lightening bolt went through my entire body. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Mom, I am okay. Love, Kayla.” How was this possible? My heart began to pound harder and faster. My breathing intensified. Immediately, I started looking around the room for her, but, she was no where to be found. The room was spinning and I was in a panic. And, then in a blink of an eye…….I woke up.
I began having vivid dreams when I was a very young child. The dreams were always in color and usually incomprehensible. Years ago, I had a crazy dream that I was walking through a giant box of Bryer’s vanilla ice cream with tennis rackets tied to the bottom of my feet to use as snow shoes….Ha….I wouldn’t know where to begin to try to interpret a ridiculous dream like that. However, this dream about the message from Kayla, seemed so real. It felt like it really happened. I can still visualize every detail from the high-top light oak table I sat on to the scent of the marker in my hand. I can remember that it was a very dark night with the sky lit up with stars. My mother glowed with youth and a time long before she lost her oldest grandchild. Everything in this dream seemed like I could reach out and touch it. But, as I was slowly opening my eyes from a deep sleep, reality quickly set in. What seemed so realistic was only a dream. A huge wave of disappointment washed over me as I awoke. It seemed so unfair that my brain would take my thoughts hostage and manipulate them into convincing me that this dream really happened. But, at the same time, having an opportunity to receive a message from Kayla gave me comfort and peace. The closest way for a bereaved mother to see her child is through her dreams. We often pray and ask God to please send our child to us in our dreams. And, even through the disappointment of reality upon waking, I still had a very precious moment in time that I will always appreciate and never forget.