Seeing the Small Signs

Tonight, I am thankful for the small signs that we find. My friend, Mindy ran into a woman who drove a green jeep at the Springstein concert last weekend. As she tried to scalp a ticket, the woman passed by and told her not to worry, that a man in a blue shirt was going to sell her a great ticket. A little bit later it happened, and it was a good seat. I called Mindy just a little bit later as she tailgated alone at the back of her Mini Cooper in the parking lot. We talked for a few minutes, both never imaging ourselves facing what life had given us; struggling to figure out how to live without our loves. After Mindy hung up, a woman, the same woman who had told her about the tickets, yelled from another aisle of cars where more people were tailgating, "You will both be happy again."

I felt that sense of peace wash over me as I was reminded that there are angels among us and that we are not alone. How did she know? After that happended, Mindy walked over and talked to the woman. The woman told her that she was psychic. She shared a few more things with Mindy all of which were quite amazing...I guess time will tell. But it was a sign for me, too. This week I prayed, asking God to send me another sign. Maybe this was it. Mindy carried that first sign about nine months ago...and now another one. Yesterday, Mindy was going through boxes, trying to pack things up when she came across a card that Hamid and I had sent her when her cat, Artichoke died. I had forgotten all about that, but she shared how I had just signed the card (she gave me credit for buying it and paying for the stamp!), but Hamid had taken a minute to write that he understood as his cat was seven years old. He had been talking about Chewey. He loved Chewey so much. And she found a Christmas card that we had both signed. These may seem like such small things, but it fills my heart to know that we, Hamid and I, brought Mindy a smile years ago, and then again, yesterday when she really needed one. And it brought me a smile, too... it is that bittersweet smile accompanied by that dull ache, but I will be happy again.

A special surprise

On Friday, Desiree was telling met that she had to go and buy some things for Mynor for his senior pictures and prom. I told her to come and look at Hamid's things to see if there was anything he would like. We were going through some clothes and found Hamid's black suit. I told her that Mynor could borrow it but Desy was unsure as she thought it was the one Hamid wore for our wedding. I told her that it was fine. As we looked at different ties and talked about Mynor I remember seeing a piece of paper on the bed. I thought it was Desiree's so I didn't say anything.

Later that day the kids and I were getting ready to go out and I saw the piece of paper still lying there on the bed. I went over and picked it up. It was the vows that Hamid wrote for our wedding. My heart seemed to stop for a moment and then a rush of love followed by that burning pain filled me. Three and a half years ago he said these words to me:

Heather, with you by me on my side, I feel confident that i have cherished every moment that we have shared and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I promise to be faithful and trustworthy every day of the rest of our lives. I promise to love you with all that I am for all that you are. I promise to stand by you no matter what the circumstances may be or what life may bring us. I will forever hold you in my arms.

Was this another sign that I was meant to find? Do a lot of people find their wedding vows years later? I don't know, but regardless, I am grateful. Reading Hamid's last words...neither of us had any idea what life had in store for us; that we would have only a short time as husband and wife. But Hamid did stand by me so bravely. I remember the day that we found out that there was nothing else that we could do except to try this experimental surgery. We clung to each other as our hearts broke in the doctor's office. We drove home and then spent the afternoon curled up in bed together. I cried and I wasn't sure if I would ever stop, but then Hamid pulled me in, and told me it was time to stop crying, that we needed to be strong for Ariyana and the baby on the way. Before I knew it he had me laughing and somehow for a short time, we returned to our ordinary life where we smiled, laughed, and loved. Hamid promised to forever hold me in his arms...I wonder if he is in some sense; reaching across worlds and time to give me these little signs, renewing my strength and bringing me peace even if it is only for a short moment.

My birthday

I was driving home two days ago and a friend called me to invite me to dinner for my birthday. I thought how sweet it was and we made plans. But as we talked, I realized that she was watching out for me, anticipating that it may be a hard day without Hamid. I guess I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about it. When we hung up, I thought about Hamid and how much I missed his smile, his laughter. I could feel the ache rising up as I began to cry. I remembered last year. Hamid was finally home for good on hospice. We all were downstairs in the living room, mom, dad, the kids, friends from back home. Hamid had a beautiful card for me. And I thought about how this year there would be no card from him; there would only be the silence and that dull ache. I miss those carefree days of getting together to have dinner and celebrate my birthday with friends and family. It was always simple, but perfect for us.

I kept driving and I thought about life. Thirteen years I had known him and shared my joys, sorrows, fears, and dreams. I felt so safe with him and I could be myself whether it be serious or me singing or doing my special dance for him as he laughed and pulled me close. Hamid made me feel safe. I remember lying in bed here in our new home next to Hamid. I was pregnant with Ariyana, and I knew that everything was going to be alright; I knew Hamid would take care of us and that we would always be safe. And I thought to myself, how do you ever find that again? I don’t think you do. Maybe what we had was a special gift one of those “once in a lifetime” moments which I was lucky to have for so long.

I did have a nice birthday and made it through yet another “first” without Hamid. And I am ok. Friends and family made it a special day and I realized how many people are watching out for me and thinking of me. It really touches my heart as sometimes I wonder if everyone else gets caught back up in life and forgets that Hamid isn’t here; that everyday I have to face life without him. And then I listen to the phone calls, read the messages, hear the singing, and feel the hugs from my family and I know that they haven’t forgotten and that I am not alone. Thank you.

A dream

So, I had a dream. As I shared before, I don't dream very often anymore. But Tuesday morning I woke up in a cold sweat and could feel my heart racing. I quickly turned off my alarm and laid back down thinking about the dream I had just awakened from. I was with Hamid and I think my family was there, too, but they were always in the background. Suddenly, someone said that we had to take him to the hospital and then we were there. I saw him lying in a hospital bed. People came into the room and then they told me that they were sorry but he had died.

I just stood there in disbelief feeling overwhelmed. Someone told me I had to start planning the funeral and suddenly I was following a person who was showing my the rooms for the funeral. As we walked into the second room I saw a casket with flowers on it. I remember seeing purple flowers, not the red that I had for Hamid. A Catholic priest in full dress approached me saying that he was going to start the funeral. I couldn't believe it. I started yelling at him, saying that Hamid had only died a few hours earlier. I still needed to call friends and family to tell them; I remember I told him that I needed to call Parham and Christine. I kept yelling at the priest and put my arms protectively over Hamid's casket. And then the alarm went off.

So what did it mean? I told my therapist about it on Tuesday and I thought she had a great analysis. She said that the speed of the events in my dream suggest a feeling of lack of control; that I had no control over what was happening. As I think about it, it is true. It is also interesting that though at times it was a very long year, everything did happen fast. Our life was perfect - we had everything and then suddenly Hamid is in ICU, intubated, receiving 12 units of blood and the doctors are telling me that he has 3-6 months to live. Five months later we realize that it is bad...4 months in the hospital and then hospice and then on July 1st Hamid knows it is time and decides to stop is fluids and nutrition. Some days felt like years, but the good days, the convertible ride, picnics, tea parties, fishing, renewing our vows; they slipped by so quickly.

The therapist also felt that the priest obviously represented a religious component. We talked about my faith and beliefs and how that has been my continuous strength and source of hope. I haven't felt the anger yet - maybe I won't, but maybe the yelling at the priest represented my anger at what had happened. Maybe subconsciously I am expressing how unfair it is, how it happened much too soon. Why did it happen to us?

The pain of Hamid's loss is with me everyday, nearly every moment. I still don't feel anger because of my faith and the signs that I have received. Yet, there are many times that I feel it is unfair and that this wasn't supposed to be my life. Sometimes I think back and it is hard to believe I am here now alone with the kids...it seems that Hamid was just hear, bigger than life, laughing, eating sunflower seeds, playing guitar, drinking wine, and playing with Ariyana. And dreaming of our future.

And so I sit here now, not sure how to finish this. I guess it is part of the journey, all which makes us stronger.

A hard week

It has been a hard week. Not as hard as I thought but still hard. Hamid fills my mind nearly every moment. Everything reminds me of him, of his laughter, of his body, of his love for me. I see the ocean and its immensity and wish I could just feel him or see him one more time.

I just finished the book, “Embraced by the Light.” It had some interesting concepts, some new, but many I had heard before. It talked about how in this life we are supposed to experience things that help us to grow spirituality. That is our purpose here on this earth. We make our own choices yet there are some things that are set in place by God. I believe I was chosen to be with Hamid, to love him, to learn from him as he accepted his diagnosis of cancer and so bravely loved me, ariyana, and afshin. When I think about how he faced the last year of his life, I am filled with admiration. I don’t know that I could do it so bravely, so selflessly. He loved me more that past year than ever before. Even when he had pain he would tell me how much he loved me and would find a way to smile and laugh at ariyana and afshin.

I remember Hamid was so excited to cook a dinner for me…he hadn’t been able to eat in over 5 months, yet he wanted to make a dish he had seen on the Food Channel. So while I was at work, he had my dad drive him across the street to the grocery store. He even got to ride one of the carts around but it ran out of gas in the middle of the parking lot so they quickly drove off and left it! For those of us who knew him, it was always an adventure with Hamid. That night we cooked dinner together. He would get weak so I had a chair for him to sit at and then he would tell me what to chop and mix and then he put the final piece together. We all sat around our dining room table with him at the head and we ate a wonderful dinner that he had prepared for us. Hamid watched and even though he couldn’t enjoy the food you could see that he was basking in our love for him.

I think God wanted me to stand by his side and help him through this experience. We talked a lot about our life together, and mine and the kid’s life without him. Those are hard conversations. Conversations that we were too young to have. But together, we faced what was ahead of us. We talked about the Tree. I believe that night Hamid made his commitment to God. And then on July 1st, 2008 when he decided to stop his treatment he was scared yet relieved to have the power to move on from this world of pain. I know it was hard for him to leave us…maybe that is why those last 36 hours were so difficult. I wonder if he saw us there, gathered around him and heard me telling him that it was alright for him to leave. Did he want to reach out for me just one last time? Did he want to comfort me and tell me that the light was so warm and loving? Did he want to tell me that we would all be alright?

God is there waiting to help us when we ask, but only when we ask. I think about the past months and when I have asked God from my heart He has answered. The message from Hamid, the balloon, the way Ariyana’s one butterfly sways above us when the others aren’t, the peace that suddenly descend on me, the touching and sometimes profound words of Ariyana, and then the song “It’s a wonderful world” playing after I prayed. I truly believe that all of these are His way of letting me know that Hamid is there giving me strength. It does help me but yet I have this hollowness inside that was never there before. It is a place that was only for Hamid. I am going to be alright and I will try to think about what I was supposed to learn from this experience and how it will make me, Ariyana, and Afshin stronger.

It's still big

It's still big. The grief, the loss, the ache of living life without Hamid; it is still so big. Just now as I was opening my blog, sitting here in the living room with the candles lit while everyone sleeps, listening to classical music; the song that I walked down the aisle came on. It is playing right now. I remember how Hamid would laugh as after we were engaged and I heard this song I would start pretending to walk down the aisle. As I watched his face we would both break out in laughter anxious for that day to arrive. I guess that is all that I have to hang on to; those memories, those stories of a great love.

This is my first day of my "morning me time." I am going to try to do it each Friday morning so that I have time to write and reflect on this journey. It has been a hard few weeks. Of course, they are always filled with laughter and love with my friends, family, and most importantly, Ariyana and Afshin, but the pain is still there, and it is big. I have been pushing it aside focusing on work, home, and taking care of the kids. But it is there; an almost unbearable pain.

Somehow I find myself running into widows where ever I go. I went to get my haircut a few weeks ago and was told that my hairdresser was no longer there. Disappointed, I had a new person cut my hair. We started talking and she asked about my family. I breezed over a question about my husband, and then it came up again. I told her he died 7 months ago. She stopped cutting my hair and shared that her husband had died when she was 21 and had a 3 y.o son. I started crying as I listened to her story. I told her a little about mine, but mostly just listened and was thankful for the time that Hamid and I had to prepare and to say good-bye. As I left the salon that evening we hugged and each of us felt that we had met for a reason.

Then I had to go to Mailboxes to have a mortgage paper notarized. I took Hamid's death certificate since he is still listed on the paperwork. As the woman was taking down the information I said that I was the only one signing the papers. She said, "He has to be here for me to notarize his signature." I slid the death certificate towards her and told her that he was dead. At that point she stopped and looked at me and said she was sorry. She asked if we had children so I told her about Ariyana and Afshin. She then shared that her husband was killed by a drunk driver when her son was 3 y.o. I asked her how her son was doing. She said that he was very good and that he loved hearing the stories about his dad since he had been too little to remember him. That sentencecut through me like a knife. I quickly put on my sunglasses, thanked her, and left.

I think that is one of the hardest and most painful things for me to accept. Ariyana likely will not remember all of the love that Hamid had for her. She won't remember how he called her Joujay and how he loved to pick her up and kiss her all over. How she had him wrapped around her finger from the moment she arrived. I know I will give her those memories through the stories and the pictures, but it just hurts so much. And Afshin. That is all that he will have is just the stories I can tell him. It just doesn't seem fair that they didn't have a chance to know Hamid. Just writing about it now is painful and I can't even express all of my emotions. I will do my best though to help them to remember their father and to really know him. He was an amazing man.

I am not sure where to begin tonight. I realize that I have been keeping a lot of feelings inside. I keep busy, my days filled with the kids and work. I go until I finally fall asleep. A sleep with no dreams. I guess it is a safe place as my heart and mind are free of the ache for those hours. But I realize that going like this may make me miss signs.

This past week has been hard. I miss Hamid so much and at times am surprised that it still feels so surreal. It is hard to imagine that I won't feel his arms around me again. I had told Hamid that I felt so safe and secure with him - I always knew he would take care of me. But here I am, without him. Maybe that's why it is so hard for me to be away from home and the kids. If I am gone for too long I feel almost homesick. I have this incessant urge to get home as fast as I can. Yes, to go home where I am safe, where I can see the kids, hear their laughter, and sense Hamid around me.

I have been trying to take more time to just "be." To feel, to listen, and to look for signs that God may be sending to me. Just the other day, I laughed as I listened to Hamid's Rush cd. I could see him jamming with his electric guitar, lost in the music. I knew he was smiling down on me. I skipped ahead through the rest of the songs and then I came across a ballad that talked about letting this moment lasting forever; holding on...I remember our vow renewal and how that day we wanted to hold on to the love in the room as our friends and family, listening to our wedding song, danced with us. That was the last time that Hamid and I danced together.

I know there are more signs for me, to give me strength to go on without Hamid here in this physical world. I just need to make time to open myself to them. Hamid, I love you and I hope that you can sense my love in that beautiful place where you are waiting for me.