It’s been 25 days since my mom died. I was having a particularly tough night last night, and I couldn’t sleep. I was making to-do lists. My mind was racing about my job, making end of year donations, and worrying about my family.

Then, in a flash…I was back in the kitchen of my childhood home, in NJ. I was standing right next to Mommy. She was wearing her green striped house coat, the one with the pink and yellow across the top. It must have been the 1990’s, as she had her Linda Evans haircut.

Someone in the kitchen had been looking for dessert, and Mommy knew where the good stuff was. She held a small box of cookies (from Butterflake, for those of you from Teaneck).

I reached out and grabbed her right shoulder with my left hand. I FELT HER. And, she looked right at me. She was youthful, radiant, healthy. She wore no makeup.

And then…I was back in my bedroom in Charlotte, looking up at a dark ceiling. I told Mommy I loved her and thanked her for visiting me. It was so good to see her.

And then I broke down. My sobbing woke Josh, and he held me. The devastation hit me anew: Mommy was gone.

My in-laws, psychologists, would probably say this sighting was my brain’s way of comforting me. But, I attribute it to Mommy and to God. I had had a vision.

Whatever was at play, I was reminded that I have a lifetime of vivid memories stored away, which I can access whenever I need to reach out to Mommy.

I can’t wait to see her again. I wonder what her hair will look like next time.