Little Rookie

Dear Mom,

I had a t-shirt that said “Little Rookie” on it. Why do I remember that? I barely remember anything from my childhood. But that, for some reason, has stuck out to me for all these years.

I don’t remember exactly what the t-shirt looked like. I imagine it to be kind of a Tom-boyish t-shirt. Something sporty like a character riding a bike or playing soccer on it.  Or maybe I am just making that part up.  I don’t know. But I do know that the words “Little Rookie” were definitely sprawled across the front of it.

I am assuming you bought that t-shirt for me.  Do you remember where you got it? Zellers? 🙂  It was around that age, I think, when you worked at Zellers.  What was that like, being there at work?  Who did you work with? Sam Uncle?  Did you like going to work every day?  Were there regular customers who knew you?  What was your favorite part of the job?  What did you really hate about it?  Why did I never ask you these questions while you were here? Maybe I did, but things have become so cloudy for me.  I know you also used to say that you wished you could remember more about our childhood and growing up.  But you had a lot to do, Mom.  That was too much to remember.

Besides, it is not the details of the days that passed that were important. It was the feeling. And I want you to know that you always made us feel loved and taken cared of.  I know you went to work each day to take care of us. I know you wanted to spend that time with us more.  But you were an extraordinary mom. You did everything- you were the breadwinner, the nurturer, the caretaker, the father, the protector, the cook and the teacher. You taught us a lot, mom, through your actions, through your love, through your energy. The kind of energy only a loving mother could give.

That has stuck with me, and will continue to stick with me forever. There were some words you used as nicknames for me. One of them was “Rook”.  Was that some kind of term of endearment used in our culture? Or where did it come from?  I was going to say What does it mean. But sometimes, a meaning like a definition doesn’t seem so necessary when a feeling comes across from it more strongly. Sometimes, the feeling is more important. So “Rook” took on its own meaning to me.  I could feel the love and tenderness you were putting across through the word or name. It made me feel very special. It had a special quality to it.

So the combination of that and the Little Rookie t-shirt made Rookie stand out in my mind and heart a lot.  You calling me “Rook” didn’t have anything to do with the t-shirt did it? Or did you buy the t-shirt because you called me “Rook”?  I am assuming it was only a coincidence.

But it stayed with me. That word. And the phrase “Little Rookie”.  So much so that in the past, I was using it for several years for passwords on various accounts I signed up for online.  It’s funny how these things get embedded without us knowing it, right?

And so… the other day, when I was driving and again was struck by the license plate I noticed on another parked car (you know by now, this has been happening to me often), you can understand even more now why I wondered.  I wondered if you again had anything to do with it. Or maybe the Universe planted it there to pass on a message from you to me.

The license plate said ROOKIE.

I stared at it and then, as I have done in the past, I went around the corner and came back to that car. Stopped in a place where I could get out of my car and could take a picture of the plate.  It was like I wanted to show it to someone. To have “proof” that it really showed up.  But then I wanted to ask someone if it was just a coincidence or a real sign. And I had no one to ask. No one that I would believe maybe anyway, because how would they prove that they knew?

I guess, once again, it’s all about belief. What we want to believe and what we don’t want to believe.

I don’t know what I believe in these situations anymore. But what I do know, and I’ve said this before, is that I will just break myself down if I don’t believe in something, in these possible moments of magic, between me, and you and the Universe.

Will I ever know the answers even at the end of my life? I am trying to live my life for you, Mom. But I can’t help with all the questions.  I hope one day, there are answers, and the answers prove that all these ‘coincidences’ I see and feel have not been coincidences at all. But just proof that my mom is happy and at peace. And that a mother’s love never dies. And my mom just wanted to sparkle each of my days with a little message from her telling me that she is somewhere beautiful, being taken cared of. So there is nothing for me to worry about.

Love always, your Little Rookie- Rook (Ruk, or Ruku) You always had variations on it. And I loved them all.

Tas

 

Advertisements

India Calling

Mom! We won a book last week! Yes, I said “we” because I refuse to believe that this was anything but a collaboration between you, me, and spirit.

See, the book giveaway was being offered through Sacred Earth Journeys. I guess they put on these tours to different parts of the world.  And their contest asked people to describe which of the three tours they are offering would be the place they’d want to go, and why.

The choices were:

Search for Wisdom in Sacred India- with the leader Andrew Harvey

Discover the Wild West of Ireland- with Phil Cousineau

or Connect to the Power Places in Ancient Peru- with Freddy Silva.

They all sound amazing, but of course, I chose the one to India.  First of all, because, well, it’s India. Those are my roots and I’ve always wanted to see India. I know it would be one of the most special and profound, if not the most, trips I could ever go on.  Plus, I know YOU really wanted to see India. And I am so sorry that I didn’t stand up for you and your rights and your dreams when anyone told you you couldn’t go to India because of your age, or your situation or your health, or whatever other fears they might have had within themselves, or for you. It was not right to cut down your dreams and hopes like that.

And I am so sorry I couldn’t find a way to take you to India, to make that and other dreams of yours come true. I couldn’t even figure out how to get myself there. I still don’t know how that would work. My crazy immune system reacts badly when I am in western countries.  I am not sure how it would handle the food, heat, change of atmosphere, or any vaccinations I might have to take before going out there.  So that, on top of making sure you were safe and properly cared for,… it felt like too much of a risk to take all by myself. I didn’t want to put you in any harm if I were not well there.

And the way I travel- it’s kind of not conducive to nice, sweet, take your time and know exactly where you are going mothers like you. I wouldn’t want to do that to you. It wouldn’t have worked. But it’s the best way I know how to travel for myself- to have some kind of loose plan, but then go with the flow and even get lost in places that led me to the best adventures I never would have found otherwise.

That is not something I could have put you through. Of course not. But I didn’t know how to plan a trip with you where I wouldn’t know the place, or how my body would handle it. So… I chickened out and made no plans for us at all. I am sorry, Mom. It will always be another big regret of mine.

It’s probably the biggest reason I was compelled to choose India in this “contest”.  And the word ‘sacred’- well, you must know by now how that can draw me in. Especially now. I am looking for something sacred, spiritual. Especially a connection to you.

So.. this is what I wrote:

I would definitely choose the Search for Wisdom in India. I am of Indian heritage but was born and brought up in Canada. I have never been to India but have always wanted to see it. I always knew it would be a very special trip for me, but more so now than before. My mom passed away two and a half years ago. I feel lost without her. She really wanted to see India but didn’t get to go. I wasn’t able to figure out how to take her. I feel I need to take this trip now for me AND for her. I usually travel by myself and love traveling. But I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to travel on my own to India. So the thought of going on a trip with Andrew- to be able to meet him in person and be inspired by his obvious passion for cultures and history, would be amazing. I especially am intrigued by the emphasis on the sacred and search for wisdom, mentioned in the title of the trip. Just the thought of it brings me goosebumps. Maybe it would connect me and my mom and bring me some peace in that regard. Going to India is something I feel compelled to do but have not found the right opportunity to ensure it would be a safe, organised but also inspiring trip. Maybe that is about to change.

Because of this, I ended up winning the 3rd prize, which is a book called Radical Passion- written by Andrew Harvey himself.  We ended up winning it, together. Our story of an endless mother- daughter connection.

I need to tell you more about this man and what he does and what he stands for in another blog entry. But for now, I will say thank you, Mom, for still connecting me to things that matter, to still being able to both ground me and inspire me despite us not being physically together. You’re right- that is the power of a mother.  There is nothing like it. A mother is absolutely irreplaceable.

I will let you know when the book arrives. Maybe you will already know before me. I like to imagine you have a hand in delivering it right at the right moment.

India, Mom. It’s coming, and it’s calling me. I think it always has been. I can just feel it more strongly now.  I will find a way to make it happen for us.

A trip of a lifetime, or more than a lifetime, you could say. Because we are definitely doing this together.

Love you, Mom.

Happy Sunday.  No day goes by without you on my mind and heart.

 

It Made A Difference

Dear Mom,

Yesterday, I was at a ballet class in the morning.  It was tough, even though it was a beginner class. My body is just not used to those kind of movements and I definitely don’t have the strength and flexibility to gracefully glide or fly or kick across the floor the way some of the other students do.  But I try to remember that I am there to strengthen my legs and just improve myself, not compare myself to everyone else.

I would have found it so easy if I had continued with ballet as a kid.  Remember Miss G? Oh my God, she was horrible.  ‘Jaduree’, you probably called her. She was, but on top of that, she was just so mean! How were we supposed to know how to do the moves if she never showed us? I just remember her banging her cane on the dance floor yelling at everyone.

It is understandable why I left those classes.  I never thought about how I got there though, each week. How the classes were paid for. How you would have to wait for me or drop me off or how much of your own time and money and energy it took to give me the opportunity to learn to dance.

It is the same with music. The piano lessons I took every Sunday with that other tyrant of a teacher- Miss R.  Now she was not fun at all.  But you put up with all of it just for me.  I never got to thank you for that, Mom. I never got to thank you for giving me these lessons that you never had the opportunity to learn yourself.  And though I didn’t continue with piano or flute or ballet into my adult years, I wanted you to know it all  made a huge difference.  It really did.

I have a keyboard now that I try to create my own songs on or practise other piano technique on.  And I know how to read music because of those lessons from childhood. And this has helped me so much with singing, guitar dabbling, and even just made me more appreciative of listening to music.

And dance is still a huge part of my life. Maybe I didn’t continue with ballet a long time ago, but I was given that spark to make me love movement and music and expression through the body. And here I am going back to ballet class, as an adult, after so many years. This time with more positive, active instructors that I can be inspired by. But still, I see how expensive the lessons are, how much time it takes to get to class, and what kind of sacrifices other family members make for the younger students to get the chance to learn dance, or any other arts.

Thank you so much, Mom. Every lesson opened my mind up to something new.  Every lesson was more testament to your desire to give me the best and make sure I knew that  could have and do just as much as anyone else.

It made a difference, Mom. It is still making a difference.

Thank you for investing in me and my passion to create and explore and learn to express myself.

I wish I had shared it with you more.  I wish you had been given the opportunity to explore all this yourself. The healing and stress relief and fun that comes from it would have been so beneficial to you.  Now, I can only use the lessons and my appreciation of it all to honour you and create art and music and dance to tell people about you and how lucky I am to have you as a mom.

 

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.

angels2

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.

Mother's lap2

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