“Maybe mom planned that one.”
That’s what I texted your son when he messaged me to tell me that he and his family were on the same flight to LA as your sister’s family. Neither of them knew that they were going to LA the same weekend. I knew, but I never really thought about them possibly being on the same flight or even leaving anywhere near the same day or same time. So… it seemed like a pretty big coincidence. Then again, maybe there were only a select few flights that day so it was not that big of a deal. Either way, I wanted it to be true.
I mean, I wanted you, Mom, to be able to ‘arrange’ those kind of cool coincidences in our lives. That way, I could feel like you are okay, MORE than okay. I mean, if you are able to make big arrangements in our lives from way up wherever you are, then you have to be pretty comfortable and happy yourself, right? I don’t know if I believe it is even possible. But I want to believe it. I want to believe that my mom can still sprinkle her magic touch over us even if she is not physically here.
Maybe you know that our family hasn’t come together much since you have passed away. Maybe you wanted to create some opportunities for your son and his family and your sister and her family to catch up or at least just see each other to make sure they are okay. Maybe you thought your son need some Sunderji time, or that the Sunderjis needed a little Rajwani time, no matter how brief it might have been.
I try to pass this idea indirectly to your grand kids too. “Guess what I have for you?” I messaged your eldest grandchild. “Oreo cookies! But wait, they are not just any Oreos. They are Special Edition Mint Oreos!!!”
“Omg!!!” she messaged me back. “Where did you find them??!!!”
See, mom, I don’t know if you realize this but those mint Oreos you used to give your granddaughter- they are really really hard to find! I mean, sometimes Shoppers has them, but usually only in the colder seasons, and even then, they are really rare and you have to just be looking or you just miss them. And your granddaughter remembers when you brought a WHOLE package of Oreos to Khane one day. You told her you had something for her, and you opened your purse. And she still cannot figure out how you fit the whole package in that purse of yours. But she remembers that day clearly. And has often told the story of how you pulled out the unopened package and made very apparent that you brought all those cookies just for her. We can’t seem to forget that now. Oreos, especially the mint kind, are ingrained in us as a special present from you. Funny how I could never have imagined how much something so ‘small’ like a packet of Oreos has now become so significant in our lives.
So I messaged your granddaughter back and told her that it was the strangest thing- because it was- how I came across that recent package of mint Oreos. See, it wasn’t even winter yet. In fact, it was later this summer. And I was at Shoppers, looking for some snacks, and I saw regular packets of Oreos and then the green filling on one of the packages caught my eye. And I realized that those were the mint Oreos that your granddaughter was talking about. I couldn’t believe that they were right in front of me. So of course, I wanted to grab at least once package. They were even on sale. But then I noticed that it was the only package left. It seemed a little strange. But I didn’t ask any questions, and just figured one package was better than no packages. Because actually, no packages of mint Oreos was what I was and still am usually faced with. I almost thought your granddaughter was making them up until I saw this one package.
I bought it and still have it kept at home, waiting to give it to both of your granddaughters to share. But I explained to the eldest that the next day, when I went to Shoppers to see if I could pick up some more packages, there were no new ones that came in. And even the sales person told me that they usually don’t come in at that time of year. And I have never seen any more mint oreos every since. Is this not strange to you, Mom? How did you find them so easily, way back when and… maybe… this summer? Uh hem.
“I think maybe Laila Mama planted them there on the shelf for me to see, so that I would buy them for you,” I told your granddaughter. It was like they were a present from you, through me, to give to her. But it was also like a sign that you are okay, Mom, that you are doing great, working your magic from far away to let us know that you are actually not that far. I try to convince myself that they are signs that you are still with us and this time, you can be with all of us at the same time, now that you have “special powers”.
Again, it’s storytelling. I know that. I know that not only am I telling these stories to others whom you loved, but I’m telling THEM the stories to try to convince MYSELF that they could be true. That maybe, just maybe, there could be an ounce of reality in them.
I know it sounds crazy to many people. Hey, it all sounds crazy to me too. And I often become suddenly sad after I hear myself tell another story because it hits me how highly unlikely the story probably is. It’s just a coincidence, my rational mind tells me. It’s just what you want to believe but you have no proof, I hear myself tell myself.
But it’s all I seem to have right now, Mom. And if another little story gets me through another day or another hour or another moment without you, then I’m going to have to keep telling these stories because the alternative- not
believing at all- just makes living without you unbearable.
My most recent story is one I tell myself every day actually. It helps me get up in the morning, each time I am faced with the reality that this was not just all a nightmare, that you really are not here physically. I try to remind myself that you can still help influence my day. I actually tell myself that I would like you to relate to me how you want me to spend my day. I take that picture of you and me from years ago- I take it from my window ledge near my bed and put it on the burgundy shelf near the kitchen- every morning as soon as I get up. I move the picture away from the sunlight so it doesn’t start fading more than it already has.
Then I ask you, “What are we going to do today, Mom? Who are we going to talk to? What are we going to say? And where are we going to go?” And then I try to feel throughout the day for any guidance on these answers. Yeah, I pretty much pretend that I can feel you leading me throughout the day. You become my intuition and instincts. I try to listen for it. Sometimes, it seems to work. Other times, I break down wondering who I’m trying to fool. Like the other day, I just cried as I asked the questions, and hugged our picture to my chest as I moved it away from the window.
But I still do it the next day, and the next day and the next, even if I am fully in tears while asking and totally in doubt about whether you could ever hear me. I still ask the questions. I still imagine that we can plan the day together. And I will continue to ask every day.
Maybe one day, I will feel a more clear and definite answer, one that really seems to be coming from your voice and your heart. Until then, the stories are going to keep coming, or I will keep creating them. It’s kind of what gets me through right now- storytelling. It’s my way of not allowing our story to come to an end. I refuse to believe it is the end.