What About Angels?

Dear Mom,

feathersThis is the journal entry I wrote to you yesterday on Mother’s Day:

I’m sitting at your gravestone right now on a beach mat you gave me a long time ago.  I keep it in the trunk of your car so I can pull it out whenever I come here, and sit more comfortably on the grass “with you” and for a longer time.

The tree draped over that little river area here has gotten its green leaves back. It is not so dried up as the last time I was here. there are crows milling about on various parts of the grass. Two in particular, just behind me, seem to speaking to each other. I swear they are having what really looks like a deep conversation.  Remind me to tell you another time what I have learned from crows over the past couple of years.

There were kids running around the grassy area, just across the roadway on the cemetery plot area near yours.  I liked seeing them smiling and playing. It made it feel less like a sad place to be and more about beauty and innocence of life, rather than the melancholy of old age and death.

The kids made this place feel more alive for  little bit. I found it curious though, how the little boy in the family wouldn’t get into the car when his family got into the car, ready to leave.  He just stayed seated on the grass with his head down.  I wondered what was going through his mind or heart at that moment.

angels4When his father forced him to get into their white van, the kid started wailing.  Maybe he was just tired, or was being stubborn. But sometimes, I wonder whether he was feeling something from the cemetery that the rest of the family couldn’t understand. After all, they say that kids can be quite intuitive or sensitive to that kind of thing because they just came from spirit, not long ago. Whereas, us adults have been so far from it for so long.  But who knows?  Do we really return “home” after we die?

And do angels really exist, Mom?  I’ve been reading more and more about the afterlife, about angels, and listening to talks by Angel “experts”, whatever that means.  And I’ve been using this angel deck cards- the Ascended Masters- by Doreen Virtue- more often again. Michelle bought me those cards many years ago. I had no idea what I would use them for, or if I would even use them at all. I don’t know if I believed in any of that at that time. I still don’t know.

But I feel like I need to believe in them right now. Not as a substitute for God or the Universe. But as additional helpers to connecting us to the divine. After all, let’s face it, God definitely has a lot to do on his own.

I’d like to believe that there are beings or energies that help each of us out during times of trouble, doubt, pain, or even times of excitement and adventure.  I’d like to believe in guardian angels and archangels to give me some sort of hope that there really is this angelic world out there after we pass away.  I need to believe that the angels help protect and guide us.  But mostly, I want to believe in something that can connect me with you.  It’s not that I don’t believe in God, it’s just that I need a ‘middle man’ to bridge this very abstract gap between us and God.  It’s hard to follow something you don’t see. And, though I know that angels are not exactly seen, I have heard that they can be called upon in a way that gives us a more tangible knowing of their existence or of the divine.

angels1I don’t know. It all sounds a little crazy to me too. But the bottom line is that if I could feel that angels exist, then I could believe that you must also have your own angels looking after you. In particular, I need to know that angelic entities guided you when you passed from this earthly realm into heaven.  I need to feel that you were assisted to not feel afraid and to just let go and be free.  I need to feel that you were assisted in any healing you had to go through along the way. That you were comforted and cared for and loved. I need to know that you still are.  That God and angels are surrounding you at all times, surrounding you and filling you with peace, happiness and freedom.

It feels strange writing “heaven” because I don’t know what I believe about it. I don’t know what YOU believed about it.  But I hope you are somewhere that is heavenly.  And quite possibly, you could be my guardian angel too, if you are not too busy with other things up there.  Maybe you and Mama and even my first brother who we never got a chance to meet or grow with- maybe you are all watching over us now.

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I keep looking for signs that this could be true.  Like the sun keeps peering out every few minutes, shining a brilliant light onto these journal pages.  Each time I write another line, its like the sun light follows. I would love to believe that that could be you reading along as I write. Or maybe it’s the angels illuminating the page and words to take the messages back to you from me.

I love you Mommy.  I love you so much.  I hope God and the angels are looking over you and taking such good care of you.

Thank you for being my mother. It was the best thing that could ever, and will ever happen to me. Nothing could compare to you.

Happy Mother’s Day.

I watched a movie at home last night before I feel asleep. The Fault in Our Stars.

Here’s a beautiful song from it which I thought was called What About Angels? Well, she says it enough times to make it seem like it could be the title. I am going to think of it that way anyway.

Always Be Your Baby

Dear Mom,

A couple of weeks ago, I had a dream about you and me.  I was sitting on your lap, not as a child, but as an adult. And you were rocking me or comforting me, and still being the mother who babies me. But the thing is that I liked it. Not just because you were holding me- though that was really nice.  But more so because you seemed strong enough to do so, comfortable and healthy and as if you wanted me to know you could still make things better.

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I was waiting for a class. It was some kind of class that I was nervous about- like an acting class or maybe some kind of dance or performance class.  And, without words, you wanted me to know everything was going to be okay.  I think that while I was sitting on you and you had your arms around me, I realized the door to the class had opened and I was going to be late.  I worried a little about that for a moment, but then I didn’t seem to care, because nothing seemed better or more important than to be exactly where I was, in my mother’s arms.

It was so different than most of the other dreams that I have had about you since you’ve been gone.  The other dreams are disturbing, painful, scary and don’t make me feel l like you are at peace. In the other dreams, sometimes, you didn’t know you had passed away. Other times, you were bleeding, or there was some part of your body that was not together with the rest of you.  Or you were tired or upset or I continued to make the mistake of not dropping everything and just concentrating on you.  In some of the dreams, I tried to help you, but I couldn’t for some reason. And then I would wake up in tears, or feeling guilty, or feeling as if my heart literally hurt.

And I didn’t know what to make of those dreams. Sometimes, I hear about people who have dreams of their loved ones who have passed away. That the person who has passed, sends down messages- usually of comfort or something more positive.

I started worrying that if I was only dreaming of disheartening things that felt full of anguish, that maybe that meant that you were not well, or at peace. And that is so hard to live with, or to not know the true answer to. And of course, the hardest part is to feel helpless in not knowing what I can do to make sure of your peace.

But then there was this one dream- the one about you holding me. And even if it means nothing, or even if I don’t know what to make of it, it is the one I really have to hold on to.  It just felt right- to be an adult and still be able to be comforted by my mother’s arms and her lap.  It doesn’t matter how old I get, or how much time passes, I will always be your little girl, your baby.

I am just sorry I didn’t let you baby me as much as you wanted sometimes, while you were here. I would do anything to have you put your hand on my forehead like you used to, to sooth my head. Or to lay on your lap. That was one of my favorite feelings.  Or even just to hold your hand or have you feed me a piece of cake, or to just sit near you or watch you sleep.

If you can hear me or read these words that I am typing, and you can findmothers lap a way to let me know how you are, through my sleep, I would love it if you could show up in my dreams sometimes.  Well, if I had my way, it would be all the time.  I just want to know that you are okay, and truthfully, not just because you know I want to hear it.

Send me any messages that you need to- whether they are positive or not.  I just need to hear from you. And of course, I do hope that you are at peace and being comforted and loved and pampered and showered with happiness yourself.

Oh, the comfort of a mother’s lap.  There’s nothing else like it. I hope you are enjoying the soothing of your mother as well.

Always your baby,

Love Tas

Every Morning…

Dear Mom,

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Every morning, before I do anything else (except maybe go pee- haha), I take that picture of you and I from long ago off of my windowsill, and hug it to my chest. Did you see that I changed the picture frame around it?  I also unplug the white lights I have surrounding the window and balcony sill at the same time.  And then I “talk to you” through that picture asking a few questions. They are always the same questions, just maybe in a different order. Today, the questions went something like this:

What are we going to do today, Mom?

Where are we going to go?

Who are we going to meet?

What are we going to say?

What are we going to believe?

What are we going to stand up for?

What are we going to change?

What are we going to let go of?

And I ask the questions as I walk to my little wine coloured shelf unit (that I put together. Oh my God, it took forever! -maybe you were there watching? or helping?)  that is in front of my kitchen counter. And then I set the picture of us on top of the shelf, next to the snow globes I bought for you recently and alongside the picture of you in your kitchen from just a few years ago.

I can’t seem to do anything else until I ask you to help me with my decisions for the day.  I like to believe that you are assisting me, that you are guiding me and encouraging me and still with me, by my side, somehow. I have to believe it, otherwise, I wouldn’t be very excited about getting up and going about the day.

Thank you, Mom, for continuing to help me live and make the right choices. I want to feel like I am including you in everything that I do. And I want you to know that you are always with me- in my thoughts, prayers and heart.

And of course, when nighttime comes, I take the picture of you and I and put it back on the windowsill and turn on the white lights to shine around it until the next morning, when I do it all again. And I’m never going to stop. It’s become a habit, a ritual, that starts my days and ends my nights with exactly what I need- my beautiful mother’s light.

Happy Birthday Blues

Happy Birthday, Mom!!! You are the best mom ever!

L-Loving
A- Always real
I – Intuitive and generous
L – Likes tea and cookies
A- Acts cute and small but is unbelievably courageous and strong

Thank you for being my mother, father, friend and one of the most amazing teachers, especially when it comes to matters of the heart, I have ever had. Love you Mom! #MomsTheWorld #BestMoms #ILoveMyMom

mom birthday

Dear Mom,

I wrote that message above, on my Facebook status, exactly three years ago.  It was March 16th, 2014. Your birthday of course.

Facebook often sends these ‘memories’, of messages we post in the past, to remind us of what we saw as important to us and what we were thinking years ago. Maybe to even make us see the change in us?

But I am in shock over how much has changed since then. It was only three measly years ago. But back then, I had EVERYTHING, and I didn’t even realize it.  I had everything, because I had you. And I had no idea that that was going to be the last of your birthdays I was ever going to spend with you.  I had no idea that one, or two, or now three years since then, I would never be able to wish you a happy birthday in person again.

That fills me with tears and heartache and sorrow so deep that I feel ashamed of having taken life especially life with you, for granted. I wish I could have those moments back that I didn’t realize would be gone forever. I wish I could be feeding you cake right now the way you used to to us when we were younger.

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Mom, where did the time go?  Why did it happen the way it did? Without any warning, without any signs, or maybe it was more that there were signs but it was without any awareness, on my part.  I should have listened and noticed and helped more.  I should have made it obvious that you were my number one priority, because that’s how I felt inside. I just know I didn’t show it enough.

You are still my number one, Mom.  I made sure to wish you a happy birthday at exactly 12am last night, like you did on the last birthday of mine that you were around for.  And I am really trying to honour you by holding my head up high and doing things to make you proud of me, to have you know that I am not going to have this life you gave me to me go to waste.  And that I am so proud to have had (or can I still say just ‘have’?) you as a mother.  I want this day of yours- what would have been your 79th birthday- to be celebrated and cherished because your life and love and presence in this world deserves to be celebrated an cherished.

But it’s hard mom.  I’m sad.  More sad than I ever thought I could be.  How strange it is to be so grateful for having a mom like you, for being able to spend all the years that I did with you, and for having the sweetest memories of you in my heart. But to also have so much pain from it- knowing that you are no here anymore.  I know I shouldn’t say it like that.  I know I need to believe you are here, just in another way.  But you know what I mean. You went through it too with Mama.  It’s crushing to our hearts when our Mothers are not here for us to hold hands with or see smiling or hear their voices say our name.  No one else says it like you.  me and mom

I would do anything to hear you tell me to remember to eat, or to put my coat on, or to ask me a hundred times if I want more food, even when I was full, the way you used to.

I texted you today, Mom. I texted you at your old phone number. The message said, Happy Birthday, Mommy. And then there was a teary face, a pink heart with two stars shining on it, and a birthday cake with three candles on it -imogee symbols I chose to put next to the text.  I just wanted to send you a message somehow.  Not through the air or in my head. But in some real way like I might have in the past.  I don’t know if anyone else has that number now. I don’t know where the text went if it did go anywhere.  But I haven’t deleted your number off of my phone. I just don’t have the heart to.  Maybe I never will.

I also posted a cover photo on my Facebook page that says Happy Birthday, Mom on it- with a cupcake and one candle. One candle for my number one- my Mom. You will always be my number one Mom.  Don’t you ever doubt that. And my profile picture is a photo of that Generation to Generation frame I had given you- that you put up in entrance in your apartment. Now it’s on my kitchen wall.

I went to Shoppers the other day, and bought this teddy bear and chocolates. Sorry,  I ate the chocolates pretty quick. But if you were here, I would have given them to you.  The teddy bear and an old Christmas snowglobe I found at Shoppers as well is also for you.  Thank you for all the sweetest little gifts you used to buy me from there as well (that’s the shawl you used to wear almost every day- behind the cushion and the teddy bear).

teddy bear

It’s sad that even those memories are tainted now.  Shoppers was one of our favorites- because really, it was one of your favorite places to pick up cutesy things. But it was also the last place you went to, ever, before you were gone. And I associate it with that sad ache of imagining you walking home from there and falling at the end of your walk.  And it kills me to think and know I wasn’t there for you.

So much happiness- birthdays, chocolates, teddy bears, shopping, laughing, cake, smiles and love- mixed with so much sadness- death, falls, pain, emptiness, tears and heartache.

I don’t know what to do with it all, Mom.  All I can do is take one day at a time, and live in it and face it- sometimes crying, sometimes smiling.  All I can do is be honest with my feelings and stay as authentic as you made me.

All I can do is be grateful for this day- your birthday. The day that the best thing that ever happened to me came into this world- my mother.  All I can do is to know I was lucky enough to spend all the birthdays that I did have with you.

I just wish you had more. I wish that now, birthdays in heaven are truly blissful and full of peace and love for you. No pain, no fear, no suffering. Not even a hint of it. Just a truly HAPPY birthday, with lots of cake – your favorite kind that you made all the time (buy maybe now you and Mama can make it together again and SHE can feed you a piece? :-)).

And lots of warm, soothing chai, and endless peace. That is my birthday wish for you. That you are full of peace, love joy and wrapped in your mother’s loving arms.  I know that’s where I wish I was right now.  But in the meantime, I will live this life the best I can to honour  my angel mother.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Sorry for the tears. But I just miss you terribly.

License to Believe

“Believe.  Believe in yourself.  Believe in the One who believes in you.  All things are possible to she who believes.  Blessings on your courage.”- Sarah Ban Breathnach

believeDear Mom,

I’m trying to find things to make me believe again.  To hold on to something that gives me faith in something, after losing so much of it once you were gone.  It’s hard. I don’t know how you did it. I know you had this strength and resilience in you that came down to a unshaken sense of faith.  But I feel like the way we lost you has made me come undone, especially my sense of what I believed in.

I try to keep reminders around me to keep believing. Even the sign above, which hangs on the back of my door so that I can see it every time I am about to leave my apartment.  I try to spend time with people who keep me believing. And I choose to spend time alone when it seems that somehow, the people around me seem to be more non-believing than myself. God knows THAT is the last thing I need. More non-believing attitudes.

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Sometimes, it’s not actual people or anything breathing that I look to to grow back belief. But signs.  Sometimes, they are billboard signs, sometimes, they are quotes or book covers, or inspiring Facebook photos.  But for awhile now, I’ve been looking to numbers, and license plates in particular, as little glimmers of hope.

Awhile back, just after you passed away, I remember driving and feeling lost, or maybe I was feeling lost, so then decide to just drive aimlessly somewhere.  I remember asking myself or the Universe to give me a sign that we are still a family together- you, me, and my brother. And I started realizing that often, in those moments, I’d see license plates with the exact initials of our names LTR or TRL or TLR around me, and for some reason, I felt that this was… hopeful.  That it was somehow reassurance that we are still together in some way or another, even if you are not physically here with us.

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I know, it sounds ridiculous. Even as I type this, I feel like rolling my eyes at myself.  But even when I would ‘forget’ about this little game of hope I had created for awhile, it would show up again,  at the moments that I felt most lost, or sad, or confused. Hopeless. And then there, out of nowhere, a car would pass me and it would be another combination- maybe RLT this time. Or I would find myself parking behind a car with some combination of those three letters. Or I’d be driving in traffic, frustrated or wondering why I took the route I took, but then there it would show up again- TLR. And so I decided that each time this happened, it was your way, or the Universe’s way, of telling me everything was okay. That you were okay, and that nothing can really split us three apart, not even death.

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One of my new favorites that comes up is the LMR license plates. I make believe that it stands for Laila Mama Rajwani.

But like many things that we can’t see and we have to just believe in, I do often find myself disappointingly reminding myself that it’s just coincidence. Child’s play. Adult Make Believe.   I mean, how can the Universe plant certain license plate combinations conveniently in front of me all the time, right? And who is this Universal power, magical being anyway, right?  Come on, Tas, I tell myself.  Maybe those letters are just very popular on BC License plates. Or maybe it’s just that my eyes see them more because I WANT to see them, but that they were always there anyway, and therefore, don’t signify anything.

I was in that kind of extreme frame of mind last year sometime. Really really down about beliefs and life, and almost mocking myself for making up these silly signs to try to alleviate my hurt over losing you.  Who am I kidding, I thought? None of this is real. None of this is proof of anything, I told myself.  And that night, I was so angry and just late for everything. I was driving around, trying to find a parking spot to make it to my dance class. Why am I even dancing when my mom is gone? I remember thinking.  What is the reason for any of this? How do I know where I should even be going or what I should be doing? Maybe I shouldn’t be here. I should just go home and give up on all of this.

And then I turned one corner, and there was one parking spot left on the side street a block away from the dance studio I was trying to get to.  So I parked, a little flustered, but relieved that I found something.  And as I was getting out of the car, I looked ahead, and became still for a moment. My mouth must have dropped, I’m sure. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or shrug it off as nothing again. But I couldn’t this time, because on the license plate directly in front of me were the letters TAS.  My name. Or at least the shortened version that a lot of people would probably called me. But in particular, I thought of the way you said Tas [Tus] that really melted my heart, Mom.

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And it came to me in my head- you saying my name- at that moment, in your voice. And I imagined that you were calling out to me.  Telling me that if I am not going to believe in the RTL, TLR, TRL licenses that the Universe has been planting all around for me, that maybe this one would be a lot clearer that YES, we are still together. And yes, everything is going to be okay. And that you, my mom, are so well that you are able to plant signs, and even license plates, on the roads all over the place, for me to see and to assure me that I’m on the right path.

This might all be so farfetched.  It could be.  But I do still hold on to any of the moments when I’m driving or walking and see those letter combinations.  A couple of months ago, I was walking with a friend in downtown, a new person who had come into my life. I wasn’t sure about him or what the night would hold for me or us. But again, on a completely different road, in a completely different area away from the other dance studio site I had been the year before, I saw another TAS license plate. I smiled and told the guy I was with that I needed to take a picture.

Was it the same car I had seen the previous year? Was it the same license plate?  Or maybe it didn’t matter because all that did matter was that it was the same sign- to keep going as I am, because you, my mother, are still with me, calling out my name whenever I am needing it.

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Belief is a difficult thing. It is hard to prove. It is hard to stick by when you can’t see it physically or hold it in your hands.  But I realize it is all I really have now, to go by. And so I better take what I can- the signs that happen to cross my way, and hope that maybe, just maybe, my mother has planted them all along to let me know that she is still continuing on this journey with me. That THAT will never end.  And that she is able to look out for me and my brother now at the same time. So the three of us remain together, though on a different level, still together forever.