Dreams, etc.

I had a dream about my mom a couple of nights ago.

Unfortunately, it was one of those dreams that's hard to remember with any detail or clarity after the fact.  Maybe more will come to me later.  I do know, however, that in my dream, my mom was happy and laughing.

I miss her terribly.  It's not as bad when I'm covered up at work, like I have been lately, or when I'm on the go all weekend with the boys' baseball and soccer games.  When things quiet down and aren't as hectic, though, even for a moment, my sadness is like a sudden, loud noise in an echo chamber.  There's the sound, then the reverberations of the sound, all bouncing off each other and off the walls of the echo chamber.  And it lasts for a while, gets quieter, then goes away.  That's the only way I know how to describe it.

I have a little down time and, suddenly, I am hit with a sharp pang of grief.  It recedes to a dull ache but continues to bounce around inside my head, my heart and, I guess, my soul for a little while until I get a grip on things or get busy again.  It comes and goes, but when it comes, it comes suddenly and it comes hard.

It's been almost seven months, I know.  Still, it's there.  My professional life often drains my mental and emotional energy.  Almost every day, I deal with people, couples and families in crisis.  I try to solve their problems.  When do I try to solve my problems?  I don't know the answer to that one.

I worry about my extended family and how they're handling my mom's death and the other stressors in their lives.  I worry about that a lot.  Am I doing enough to help?  Am I doing enough to support them?  I hope so but I'm not sure.

One thing I have learned is that everyone handles grief - heavy, suffocating grief - differently.  Why that is, I don't know, other than that we're all different people and none of us is wired the same.  There's not a right or wrong way.  Not a better way.  Just your and my way, or so it seems to me.

I think there are objectively deleterious ways to process grief.  Self-medicating with alcohol.  Avoidance.  Burying oneself in work - that sounds familiar to me.  Withdrawing from family and friends.

Objectively positive ways exist, too.  Counseling.  Prayer.  Sharing - that's probably a hard one for me.  Self-help, I guess, through meditation or exercising.  Running for me, of course, has been a godsend.  An outlet for me.

I guess I'm a little worried that in trying to be stoic, in being present for others and in being busy professionally and personally, I may not have properly dealt with my grief.  I don't think that's the case but it's hard to know.

I have questions but I don't have the answers.  And that's frustrating to me.

How long will I feel this dull ache of sadness?  Will it ever go away completely?

Is it normal to feel this way after seven months?

Will I ever stop missing my mom?  Will I ever stop wishing I could talk to her or go see her, just one more time?

Maybe I know the answers but I wish I didn't.