About the dream I had about my mother-in-law after she died?
When I was in high school, psychic mediums were kind of trendy. Remember John Edward? I always thought he was kind of hokie, but I did take an interest in James Van Praagh. He seemed to be the most genuine and believable. At least to me. I read a book of his, Talking to Heaven, and I always remembered what he said about dreams. Whether it’s true or not, he said that when we sleep and dream about a person who has died, a part of our spirit is actually meeting that person on a different spiritual plane. I always remembered that, especially when I began taking medicine for my mental health that caused me to have lucid dreams nearly every night. I’m talking about vivid, movie length dreams in which I could feel all the emotions very very deeply. And I always woke up with the lingering feelings and a strong memory of what I had dreamt.
Once I started having those dreams, I often dreamt about family members who had passed on. My grandpa showed up frequently in my dreams. In fact, I wrote a post about it.
Later on, I dreamt about my paternal grandma. With each of those dreams, I always felt comforted. I felt that these relatives were communicating with me in some way. They were telling me that wherever they were, they were o.k. With that belief, it always made me a little concerned that I never dreamt about my Uncle Ricky or my cousin Joe. Both of them succumbed to suicide. It made me worry that they weren’t in as good a place as my grandparents.
In these dreams, my grandpa and grandma never spoke. They always smiled, but never spoke. I think there’s symbolism to that, though I don’t know what it is.
Fast forward to 2021 when my mother-in-law passed away. We were obviously very devastated by the loss of her. She had been sick, so it was almost expected, but no less hard to have her pass. I always told people that I hit the mother-in-law jackpot when I married my husband. That woman treated me like I was one of her own. Her love was pure and genuine. While we were understandably saddened by her death, there was one among us who was absolutely inconsolable. And that was her dog Toby.
When my mother-in-law, Kay, retired, she adopted Toby. He came to her home as a literal pound puppy (remember those stuffed toys from the 80s?). And because she was retired, she got to a point where she didn’t leave her house very often. Initially she did things like make frequent trips to the library or go to daily Mass. But after a while, she became a homebody, except for medical appointments and grocery shopping. Because of that, Toby had her home with him all day every day. He developed a severe case of separation anxiety, which was apparent when she did run an errand. The deep scratches on the front door jam is evidence of the repetitive scratching he did when she left the house. He simply didn’t like it when she wasn’t home and he expressed that in a very intense way. And then she died.
For the days leading up to her funeral, Toby stayed in her house. My husband and his sisters came over and checked on him frequently. At the time, there was a dog door leading to the fenced in backyard, so supervised trips outside weren’t necessary. After she was laid to rest, my husband and I took Toby home to our apartment. Toby was probably around 10 years old at the time.
It was obvious that even though we weren’t his human mama, he missed us just the same when we went to work. No matter what we tried, we couldn’t keep him from destroying the wood paneling around our front door. We resorted to keeping him in a crate when we weren’t home.
I felt so bad for the little guy. He loved my mother-in-law so much and she loved him. When we brought him home with us, I promised her that I would do everything in my power to take the best care of him. I told her that we would give him a good home like she had. Of course, this was after she had passed so my words ultimately disappeared into the air.
One thing that’s important to know about Toby is that he had some pretty sizable lumps on his skin. One lump in particular had grown so large that it looked almost like a basketball had been cut in half and stuck under his skin. Over the years, the vet had assured Kay that these lumps were benign. If she wanted to have them cut off, she could, but there was no threat to his health by leaving them on. By the time she passed, it was a real Hunchback of Notre Dame situation going on with Toby. She never had them cut off.
When Toby came into our care, my husband and I made the decision to take him to the vet and have the lumps removed. Prior to the surgery, the doctor tested his heart to make sure that his heart would be strong enough to survive the surgery. He wasn’t an old dog, but he was getting up there in age. The tests showed that his heart was good to go and thus, his surgery was scheduled.
I was at school the day of his surgery, and I was even in the middle of teaching a class when the vet called. I was expecting to hear from her. I expected to hear that the surgery had gone well and that we could pick him up later that afternoon when we got off work. But that wasn’t the news that she shared. The vet told us that just as they were finishing up the cleaning out of the largest lump on Toby’s back, his heart gave out. She said they tried to resuscitate him and they weren’t successful.
My heart instantly shattered. Not only was I distraught over the loss of a great little dog with a heart full of love, but I had broken a promise to Kay. I failed to take care of Toby. If I hadn’t been so concerned about his appearance and insisted on taking him for the surgery, he would still be with us and I would have been able to keep my promise.
I quickly came to understand though, that while his heart appeared to be fine prior to the surgery, he was as heartbroken as we were over the loss of his mom. I truly believe that he used his surgery as an opportunity to reunite with his favorite human.
We picked Toby up that day and buried him in our backyard alongside all the other pets who had gone before him.
That night, I will never forget the dream I had. For the first time, I dreamt of Kay. It didn’t take long after her passing for her to show up in my dreams. And she had an important message for me.
In the dream, I was sitting at her kitchen table. She was standing at the sink washing dishes with her back to me, as she often did. It was a familiar scene. I was crying and apologizing profusely to her. I kept telling her how sorry I was that I had let Toby die and that I had broken my promise to her. Then, she turned to her left just slightly. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was going to talk to me. And she did. She said, “It’s o.k. He was happy to see me.”
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