July 15, 2008 - Dreaming of Mimi

Last night I dreamt of Mimi. She was fragile, after losing Papa, and we need to tie her coffee cup to hang from a door (who knows why, it's a dream, right?) We need string so I see some wrapping ribbon, black and gold, in a small mess next to a deflated balloon on a little round end table. I cut pieces of it, admiring my resourcefulness, to do the trick. Then I notice a note - I know right away it's to her, from Papa. (Papa was always writing clever little notes to his loved ones...it was the way he chose to emote.) She was holding on to that old balloon and ribbon and note for a reason. She was going to be mad at me for messing with it...for cutting those ribbons. Nothing felt worse than Mimi's disappointment. I woke up overcome with guilt for my carelessness.

I miss her soft hands and how they would close around my hand, patting tenderly --causing me to be still at a time when I didn't value being still --I didn't understand why anyone would wish to be still. But in those moments, with her hands holding me in that space, somehow I did understand. Today I will practice being in that space...and try to let go of some of the guilt that still hangs on me for losing her while she was in my care.

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I suppose even today, March 10, 2012, I hold on to some of that darkness, as I can't help but cry typing these words from four years ago. It is an awkward mix of missing and wishing and regretting...all of it stinging. I am allowing it at this moment, for this brief time, and then I will imagine her, with her hands enclosing one of my own, saying, "Stop that, Gina, it's not doing you any good, now.... I'll go get us some cookies." Then we will sit down, eat her favorite meal together, and she will tell me stories of her coming of age, being courted by boys, and of her falling in love with Papa. After imagining this favorite scene, I will stop crying, smile, hug her tiny frame with my heart, and let go until the next wave.
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