Innocent Faith

The innocent faith of a child is heart wrenching and inspirational all at once. There she was holding her phone against her ear and her sweet voice rang out, "Hi, Baba, how are you? I love you. Say hi to God." Then a few moments later after she had me talk to Baba, she said, "I love you. Watch over us. Good bye." My heart swelled and my eyes filled with tears. The innocent faith of a child. The purity of her trust, that her Baba is safe and strong in Heaven with God. I cried that day, that moment, but I was also so proud of Ariyana's love. In her own way she was expressing that she missed Hamid and wanted to talk with him, yet she seemed to know he was ok. I know Hamid somehow felt this surge of love. It is a memory that I will hang on to and find strength in as I try to uphold the simple faith of a child.

I Miss You

Yesterday, Ariyana woke up from her nap in my bed and came over to me with a book in her hand saying, "What's that, Maman?" I looked at the book, it was I miss you, a first look at death. I looked at her and I knew she wanted me to read it to her as she kept pointing to the sad puppy lying next to slippers at the foot of an empty chair. So we climbed into bed and I began to read.

Death is a natural part of this life that we know here. As I read the words the tears came. It talked about life going on...it does, but it is different and so am I. As my voice softened, Ariyiana turned to look at me and ask what was wrong. I told her that I miss Baba so much it makes me sad. She nodded and then we kept reading. It hurts to know that there will be a day when she will understand the meaning in this book and that she and Afshin will grieve their father. I know he is in a better place but he was supposed to have more time with us.

I am putting together videos that we took this past year. As I played one, there was Hamid playing his electric guitar for Ariyana who was toddling around his office back and forth from the printer to his speakers. I sat there mesmerized by the music, knowing that Hamid was so in love with life at that time. His two beautifuls, as he always said, right there with him while he played away on his guitar. I think it was Parham who said that there is a little bit of Hamid's soul in those guitars. It is so true.

Hamid I carry you in my heart. You will always be there. After Ariyana and I finished reading the book, I told her that you were in Heaven but that we always keep your memories here in our hearts. Yes, Hamid, you will always be there. I miss you and just wish that life could have been different for us. I know we will be together again but until then I will carry you here in my heart.

Messages

Today it has been two months yet it feels like an eternity. I found myself anticipating this day and watching the clock...waiting for 11:30 to come. It came and then it passed. I miss him, but I know and believe with all of my heart that he is ok and that he is strong, healthy, and has that smile that always made my heart race. So, tonight I want to talk about connections and messages.

Are there subtle connections between us in this space as we know it, and with the greater universe? Maybe it is in the briefest moment when you suddenly look at the sky and its beauty overwhelms you and you are filled with peace. Or maybe it is more obvious like when we were loading the car for the beach on Labor Day weekend. Everything was packed, Ariyana and Afshin were in, but suddenly, I thought of Hamid's boogy board and brought it along. It was invigorating to be on his board in the ocean, me a 30 something among the 12 year olds. I knew Hamid was watching, smiling, and probably even laughing. Though the pain of missing him was there, I felt a peace settle inside of me.

Are these the messages from our loved ones? Is it through these mysterious connections, connections that we are not even consciously aware of, that we are able to sense messages from our loved ones? Does God know that we need that assurance once in a while to give us strength to go on? Well, here is a big one that I have to share. Mindy is going to join in with comments since this is really her story...

Mindy's friend came to visit with her two teenagers who happened to bring along a ouijaboard. Hoping to scare the kids they lit candles in the treehouse in the woods and then they all climbed up to play. Apparently, they were talking with an old man and asking silly questions. Mindy and Meghan were sitting back watching when they asked the old man if he was speaking for himself to which he replied N O. They asked him who he was speaking for...it spelled out H A M. Mindy looked at Meghan. They asked if he had a message. Y E S. Who is the message for? It spelled H E. What is the message? T R E E. Mindy said the game is over, everyone inside. I started shaking when she told me and tears filled my eyes. Was Hamid really trying to tell me that he was ok and that he is there waiting for me? Meeting at the tree was so important - when he agreed to meet me there I knew that he believed in God. I called Mindy again last night to have her tell me the story again and then I asked her when this happened - she said, "awhile ago, it was August 9th." I couldn't believe it and as she said it she then realized the importance of that day.

I don't believe in ouija boards but maybe the timing was right and this was Hamid's way to let me know that he is ok. I can't tell you how much comfort I have in knowing that Hamid is there at the tree waiting for me. I know life isn't going to be easy without him, but this gives me a boost of strength that I really need. Hamid, if you can sense my love, know that I am alright, I love you, I miss you, I am different without you with me, but we are all ok. We will meet you at the tree.

He's not coming back

I came home tonight and played with the kids while mom fixed dinner. As we set the table, I went over and poured myself a glass of wine. A twinge of pain shot through me as I thought of Hamid. He's not here.

It was a nice evening. After I got Ariyana settled I came downstairs to give Afshin his bottle and Dad came home. He was happy to see Afshin which made me smile but then brought the bittersweet thought that Afshin doesn't have a father that will come home and scoop him up and look into those deep smiling blue eyes. Then Dad went over and kissed mom...Hamid always kissed me when he came through the door - it was the first thing no matter what. Even after Ariyana was born he always kissed me before running off after her. I won't feel that kiss ever again...only in my dreams. It struck me at that moment that Hamid was not going to come back. He is not going to walk through that door with his briefcase and cell phone. He is not going to sit down and drink that glass of wine with me. He is not going to be beside me when I go to sleep.

I was talking to some friends yesterday and we talked about how you go on and you are "ok." but everything is different. I go to work and I love my job and the students, I come home to my parents and Ariyana and Afshin who just brighten my day with their light. I laugh. I smile. But there are so many times that inside I am crying...a heaviness weighs on my heart. There just aren't words to describe how much I miss him. It's so much more than that. Then, last night I heard Eli sing on America's Got Talent. Hamid and I always watched that show and we both saw Eli sing during the try outs a few months ago. As he sang the words, I thought - some of those words speak to me..."And I'm dying inside And nobody knows it but me. Like a clown I put on a show. The pain is real even if nobody knows And I'm crying inside And nobody knows it but me. The nights are lonely, the days are so sad And I just keep thinkin' about The love that we had, And I'm missin' you And nobody knows it but me. I carry a smile when I'm broken in two, I'm tremblin' inside and nobody knows it but me. I lie awake it's a quarter past three I'm screamin' at night as if I thought You'd hear me.. my heart is callin' you...

Somone said that the pain never really goes away, you just learn to live with it and you learn to live without your him. I think it is true. The kids and I will be ok, but there will always be a place in my heart that is only for Hamid. Some days that will be a weight that will pull me down but I know other days it will be a beautiful memory that will lift me up.

It's the little things

It's the little things that I miss. That morning cup of coffee that I so often took up to Hamid, "spooning" when we went to bed - he always said, "closer, closer" and I would laugh because there was no possible way for me to get closer! That glass of wine, those Sunday night Persian dinners that he cooked all day. The next morning I could still smell gormeh sabzhi when i went down to make coffee. The cool nights that come after a hot day here...they remind me of Hamid. I feel the breeze on my skin and I am back to the two of us sitting in our camp chairs, drinking Sam Adams in the middle of our dirt yard, and planning the flowers and the pool. It was such an exciting time; our dreams were coming true.

Today we went to Huntington Beach - it was beautiful and we had so much fun. I thought of Hamid the entire time but it was ok. It was freeing. On the way home we drove by the exact beach there in Huntington where we came with Hamid last year after he got out of the hospital. I thought of us then, there was a lot of hurt but there was so much hope. He looked so healthy and strong. He and dad must have spent over an hour just trying to get his new kite up!

Yes, it is the little things in life that become so significant, so grounding. Those are the things that we need to be thankful for each day. That phone call in the middle of the day to say hello, holding hands and walking, playing with ariyana, listening to electric guitar, cooking dinner, going to the store...there are so many, little things. I don't think I even realized how closely our lives were woven - a beautiful, intricate quilt. Tonight I thank God for the little things that Hamid and I had, and I thank Him for the little things that I still have in my life each day.

Remembering

"A wife sits on the bed, gently holding and rocking her newborn. She looks down adoringly at the small child and then lifts her eyes to turn her gaze to her husband sleeping quietly in the next bed. His chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm for the first time today. I sit in a folding chair between the two beds and I too shift my glances between the precious sleeping baby and his father. And as I do this I’m aware that I’m in some of the most sacred space I’ve ever touched. I’m also aware that I’m immersed in terrible beauty…"

A friend of mine, Chris, who was the chaplain at Sharp, shared this with me yesterday...as I read it I remembered those days, the pain, the hope, the uncertainty...the unwaivering love of husband and wife. Many times I looked to Afshin for strength and to remind me of the gift of life that Hamid and I had been given in the midst of all of this.

I need to share the rest of Chris' writings here as they inspire me and also help me to put my guard down and feel some of the sharp pain of losing the love of my life...the one person whose warmth filled me each night, whose arms protected me, whose laugh brightened my days, whose love filled my heart.

Reflecting on his year, Chris shared, "I’ll never forget that from a 45 year old radiologist with stage 4 terminal cancer and his pregnant wife I learned how the words “for better and for worse, in sickness and in health” are lived out unfailingly amidst a terrible beauty of reality. I learned how cancer really can’t cripple love, invade the soul, or silence courage. I learned that in the midst of winter one can discover in themselves an invincible summer."

It is a time where there are no words. But I sit here and I read this over and over. I cry, I remember, I smile...I miss him so much. They say Hamid is looking down on us and that he is with us, but I want to feel him. I want that touch of his hand and warmth of his body just one more time. What I would give to just see him again, vibrant and strong and have him tell me that we're going to be ok.

Letting go of the guilt

I have had people say to me how lucky I am that I have no regrets. Hamid and I did make the most of the time we had together and we lived and we went through it together. We had so many deep talks this past year. Many were ones that you never want to have yet after talking, crying, and holding each other, we always felt better. I still remember the day when the doctor told us that he had carcimetosis. He came to work with me so I could get my bags and then we went home. We told Mara we needed to be alone for a while and we went upstairs together where we just cried, a cry of pain and fear that seemed almost unbearable. We held each other close as if together we could keep time from moving on. But it moved on. After laying there a while, Hamid told me it was time to stop crying and watch a movie. He hugged me again but this time with a smile of courage - I am sure he was just hiding his pain behind it, but he did it for me. So we went on and laughed and loved. We knew we would face this together.

We did so much this past year...quality family time, walking and biking early in the morning, the aqaurium, zoo, trick or treating, traveling to MO and NM...and then when Hamid became really sick we still lived as much as we could...Christmas and New Years at Sharp, Afshin's birth, love notes and secret admirers, dancing to our wedding song, movie nights...and then home. It was so good to be home together....watching movies, playing cards, going outside, playing with ariyana and afshin, tea parties, birthday celebrations, the wii, our convertible trip, picnics, renewing our vows, and more...I was by his side until the end.

But I do, I did..I had one regret. I hadn't told anyone until just a few weeks ago. I told Hamid that I would push his pain button and that I would keep pushing it so that he wouldn't suffer. I promised him. But those last 36 hours were so hard. I increased his pain medicine even higher than the on-call doctor told me to do and I pushed the button and when I fell alseep the nurse continued to push it...but he was so restless...should I have increased it more and earlier? I told him I wouldn't let him suffer. He didn't really talk to me after Monday night. One time on Tuesday he seemed to focus just for a moment when I showed him a picture of his father and Abdul. It was so hard to see him restless and not able to communicate with us. I keep thinking and maybe hoping that neurologically he couldn't have been "aware" at that point...I don't know. I just pray that God released his soul from that body even before he passed. I know Hamid knew I was doing all that I could but it wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen to us...we had everything.

So this guilt...I have been holding on to it but after talking to my friend about it and then opening up to a few others I am letting it go. I know if Hamid could, he would wrap his arms around me and tell me that he is alright, that he loves me, and he is waiting for me but that I need to take care of the kids and be happy. And so another day goes by and I cry, but I smile and laugh to. I will never be the same but I will be ok.