A Little More Sad, but also, A Little More Alive.

It's been approximately 11 days since my mom died.  She was 64.  Although she was fragile
emotionally, she was physically in decent looking health or so it appeared from the outside.  Somebody said to me recently "Even if you know or can prepare, you really can't prepare to know what it's going to feel like."

The last two weeks have been a rollercoaster ride to say the least.   I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom like I always do and went to get my phone so it would be by my bedside when the alarm rang in the morning.  I don't like it close to me at night because I really do want to rest and the notifications, lights, temptation of getting sucked in if I do wake up is not as precious as shut eye especially as a parent of a 15 month old baby boy, currently called "terremoto" or earthquake by his parents; and "tropical storm" by his uncle and cousin.

I had a message on my phone from my dad "Call. Urgent," and another few missed phone calls from both my father and my brother.  Although in my mind, I had always mentally prepared for it to happen this way with my parents, I wasn't ready.  Living overseas, you hope that your parents just forgot about the time difference, or your credit card got corrupted.

You never actually believe that your going to get the call: Your mother is on life support. Her chances aren't good.
You call back, talk to your brother who has just arrived, who hands you to your father.  All the while trying to remain calm:  Do I need to get on a plane?
No, you just need to know.  You might not get here. 
I can tell I am not getting the whole story here.  I probe.  How bad is it?
The doctor said she has less than a 25% chance to live.  But you probably won't make it. 
Part of me is annoyed inside and also empathetic and also helpless.  Is my father trying to guilt trip me that I live abroad in this moment?  I know he wants his family near him in this challenging time but what can I do?
Just keep us in your thoughts.  We'll talk soon.

I try to go back to sleep at 2:30 in the morning and my conscience is not letting that happen.  I start looking at flights.  The earliest I can get to Tulsa is 9 am on Thursday morning.  It's now 3 am on Wednesday morning.

I try to go back to the last time we talked, making sure it was good.  It was.  Sunday, September 2nd in the afternoon.  Pablo was cheerful.  He was walking and tooling around, bouncing on the trampoline, laughing smile, which when the stars align like osmosis can transfer to my mom, and on this particular afternoon it did.  She was smiles.  We left planning to chat soon and she thanked me for the sunshine of my son.

I guess what I am trying to deal with is the fact that I keep on expecting her to come around the corner in this old house.  I expect her to yell at me when I am cooking dinner to "Pay attention." I expect her to get annoyed with all of Pablo's toys floating around and ask me to "Put them in a central space."  I expect her to cry at least once when I am on my visit and for her to tell me "how proud she is of me and how lucky I am in this life."  Most of all, I want to snuggle next to her on the sofa with the dog, because I know that she loved this time when we all cuddled together, especially in her last few years.

And I am heartbroken.  I am sad that my child will not get to know his grandmother.  I am sorrowful that she will never physically see other grandchildren if I have them.  I am sad that my dad's heart is aching like I have never seen it ache.  In ways, it's beautiful to see his emotional vulnerability and in other ways it's absolutely terrifying and painstaking.

Most of all, I wish she would have known, that even though we were different, I so respect her for contributing to me and who I am today.  I admire her for walking the Camino de Santiago at the age of 60 after shattering her heel.  And I bend down to her for being a companion and life partner to my dad the last 20 years of their marriage which has definitely seen it's ups and downs.  And it's not been until the last 10 days at home, without her, that I fully understand how much they need one another. Finally, I thank her for helping me feel so much again.  Since Pablo was born, I sometimes feel like more of a robot than a person, and although this death is tragic, it has given me a newfound respect for life and made me feel more alive and whole than I have in awhile.

For now, I am floating through the world, a little more aware, a little more sad but also, a little more alive with this thought hanging on my hip.

Moving Woes 2018

The cries, they are painstaking; seeing his face when he cries is even worse, so here I am trying to do a slice of life because it's a distraction from them.

The transition is real for this sweet child of mine.  Many of my friends said "he'll be fine, he is just a baby."  The reality is he knows.  He knows that the air freshener in his grandmother's summer beach house was the one we had in our toilet in Kuala Lumpur.  He knows that the remotes should turn on air conditioners.  He knows that sleeping in different beds and seeing new people all the time means something is not right in his world.  He has felt this move and because of that I have felt it more. 

One part of me is appreciating this time of wonder and smiles and courageous risk taking and constant skin to skin snuggles.  The other part of me wonders if I am causing permanent damage in my child's life by taking him away from his third parent, Cora, our nanny of the last year; by taking him away from his friends who he can poke and prod and they usually reciprocate; by challenging him to adapt to a new world that we are still 8 days away from.

Moving has never been so complicated in my life; coupled with Andres working a ton and feeling like a single parent, two summer breaks of not really breaks, this mom is #wornout #exhausted #wondering if it's all worth it.

So for those of you with experience, this is a call for help, please reach out to me via facebook, whatsapp, etc.,  I need to know that Pablo and I are going to make it through this, or some magic tricks that will help make it easier.  Experience is priceless and I am banking on the wonderful set of expertise that lies in all corners of the world to lift me up.

Xoxo 

My Recurring University Dream

I have this recurring dream of being back in university. 
Last night, it involved me taking 8 courses, including painting and Albanian history? Much of the dream took place at the registrar's office dealing with outdated paperwork that looked identical to that of when I was in university 20 years ago. 

It was all very vivid.  The stormy stone cement campus walls on the "dark side" and somewhat shady, often unoccupied, wind tunnel breezeways.  The crisp, autumn, upstate New York breeze that has you coveting a Chai Tea Latte, and the goosebumps spirals up your legs from the loose bottoms of your light Aeropostale cozy sweat pants that are not worth of an ever lurking unpredictable northeastern winter. 

In my dream, I float around, nostalgic for the innocent learning and ability to soak everything in and just talk about it and not be expected to immediately change the landscape or world with it.  Of course, I can if I want to but how I do it is entirely up to me and not prescribed.  Knowledge can stew and be conversed about and saturate awhile and the expectations of social activism and making a difference during university in my day (early 2000s) were low. 

Most of all, I miss the freedom.  My life was not anybody else's in university except mine and it's a unique point in your life where you can truly say that.

My Bollywood Soulmate

"When we are happy, we are good; but when we are good, we aren't always happy. " Oscar Wilde

This line takes me to so many moments in my life, but one that I probably haven't written about often.  You see in my 20s, shortly after I married and moved to India, I had an emotional affair. 

I met a man who probably in another lifetime was or will be my soulmate.  I met a man who ignited an energy in me I didn't know was possible in my 25 years of existence.  This man was not my husband.  For matters of respect, I'll call the man Abishek because in many ways he had his charm, vivacity and brutish good looks of the handsome Indian actor.

I was 25 and out with some young friends one night at a bar.  My husband at the time (now my ex-husband) was away on work.  At the time, he was away on work at least 50% of our weeks, if not more, it was challenging being in a dynamic place like India and not getting to process it together, still the same, I was not looking for trouble.

I am a good girl, from receiving the Citizenship award in 5th grade to being one of the 3 selected May Day girls in 8th grade to being selected for Who's Who Among American High School Students and a number of other awards for good character in my life. I repeat, I was not looking for trouble.

Having said that, I believe in energy, forces, life-quickenings and this moment was one that I will never forget and that I hope will continue to grow in my next lives if reincarnation does exist.

"Have you seen Bride and Prejudice?" One of my friends asked giggling.
I responded "Yes, if I ever get married again or in my next life, I want an Indian Bollywood dance, to bring me together with my partner.  I want us to both be dancing and then the choreography magically swirls us together."

In steps, Abishek "I can make that happen."

I was taken aback.  A Northern Indian looking man with big round eyes, dark thick eyebrows and thick wavy hair turned around and drove right into our conversation "What?" I asked.

"The Bollywood dance. The Choreography.  The Indian wedding." He said cheekily.

And for whatever reason, perhaps my 25-year old naivety; perhaps, the movie star smile or perhaps, real and pure magic happened, but I did believe him and I knew somehow in my life that perhaps that wedding had already happened or would happen sometime when our souls knew each other or would know one another again.

The rest of the evening transpired.  Abishek is the person in my life who dreams like no other person I know so far.  He doesn't believe in limits.  He believes in love.  He creates wonderful advertisements that make hearts flutter.  He aspires to spread love through film, through commercials, through jingles, through messages, through applications. And, when I am around him,  I too believe  and I can ask questions that make his dreams grow new sprouts within seconds.

Abishek and I had an 80s movie night that evening and many after.  Long, dreamy conversations that I can visualize to this day, walking under canopies of trees, sensual spices floating through the air, bidding adieu with an awkward hug or pat and waiting for a kiss, but I was good, and sometimes, rarely, goodness may fester more problems than it solves.

If you're lucky, you'll get more Abishek slices later. He has been a presence in my life since 25.  He's no longer dangerous and I believe he probably won't be in this lifetime but I have no doubt our collective wonder and spirit will penetrate many lives to come.

#SOL #TWTBlog #Oldfriends #Soulmates

Cooking Cacophony

Chop, cut, slice.
Chop, cut, slice.
Chop, cut, slice.
Snip, Snap, Sizzle.

Snip, Snap, Sizzle.
Snip, Snap, Sizzle.
Snip, Snap, Sizzle.
Steam, Broil, Soften.

Toss, Squeeze, Douse
Salad check.


Juice, Pour, Pinch.
Juice, Pour, Pinch.
Juice, Pour, Pinch.
Marinate s-l-o-w-ly.

Dip, Fold, Flop.
Dip, Fold, Flop.
Dip, Fold, Flop
Drizzle, Smudge, Dunk.

Sprinkle, Dash, Bake.
Salmon in the oven.

Clink, Clack, Click.
Ding-Dang-Ring.

"Time for dinner, honey."

#SOLTuesday #TWTBlog #Cooking 

Last day SOL18

Sweet victory has arrived. I have a newfound loyalty to my blog as I could be soaking up this 5 minutes of peace my husband has offered me with a little siesta but I wanted to make sure I got every post in. Looking forward to continuing on Tuesdays for the rest of the year.  I have a new appreciation for people who make blogging their job or are doing their job and maintaining blogs consistently.

I’ll see you Tuesday.
#SOL18 #TWTBlog

Off The Radar: Day 30

Will be honest. It’s very hard to post and blog when you are at the beach or pool all day trying to relax and the only moment of freedom you have are spent napping or in the dark eating or reading. Such is life on vacation with a babe.
#SOL18 #TWTblog #Springbreak2018