Something really strange and hard to explain happened to me years ago. This is when I recently had started chemo for the second cancer I'd been diagnosed with. I felt that certain songs or type of music that I'd heard and/or liked in my childhood would take me back to a time way before when I was born. I know that people may read this and think to themselves that I'm talking about being a clairvoyance or something in that line. But that's not what I mean. It would be more like I would remember feelings of a place in time much older than myself. It'd be as though I could feel my parents' past experiences and joys. Every time I'd feel this way though I always felt isolated in those feelings and thoughts because I didn't know how to explain it to my family. And speaking had become such a challenge for me anyway that every time I thought about saying something I had to thoroughly think about to decide whether it was really necessary to say or not. Speaking had become equivalent to running marathons for me with no exageration. So the challenge of speaking on one hand, the fatigue and physical pain that I felt from chemo on the other hand had all combined and taken its toll on my vocal cords. It was almost impossible to hear or understand me if you didn't really try. As a result, I became very quiet and turned inward. There were many strange things that happened during treatment that year. But this particular sensation of experiencing the joy (and strange sadness) of a time that I not even was alive I feel brought me closer to my mom, dad and relatives on both their sides. I somehow felt the physical distance between myself and my childhood world even stronger and I truly missed all the loved ones that we had left behind. A song could easily bring me to tears. I couldn't help remembering our home in Iran; the many fun gatherings and celebrations of different occasions and my mom's beautiful and delicious foods and colorful dishes; the many friends and playmates; I'd see in my mind's eye the crowded streets of Tehran and how my mom would take us to the busy bazaar what felt like half across the world from where we lived - on foot. We'd spend hours and hours walking the busy and crowded streets of Tehran. When we'd get tired and start whining my mom would stop by a baghali, which is like a street corner deli, to buy us a pirashki, which is equivalent to donuts here but a million times more delicious.
But the memories that would pop up with those old songs from Mahasti, Hayedeh, Googoosh and so many others that I don't know/remember the names of, were still different from those of my own childhood. I always felt like I felt and remembered through a much older individual than myself. Those songs always brought a sense of nostalgia that someone my age would hardly have considering the few years that I was in Iran and my young age when we left. For instance, whenever I'd listen to ABBA, who happen to be a big favorite of mine, I'd remember one of my dad's female cousins who had sadly passed away recently from a heart attack. I would feel how much she loved her husband and three girls, and I'd remember her sweet and heartwarming laughters. It was weird. I'd sit and cry to ABBA songs and feel as though I was remembering her life by herself and not just me. I know how strange and crazy this sounds. But I always have been wanting to tell this to someone and maybe even hopefully find an explanation for it.
My mom's mom passed away in the middle of my chemo therapy. But she was in Iran. She suffered from hernia for many many years, and she even had to have operations for it a few times. My mom was trying to convince her to come to the States and stay with us, but mom hadn't told her that I was sick again. She thought she'd be so shocked that she might get sick from the news. My grandma finally agreed to come, but she insisted on having a last surgery to improve the problems that she had with her hernia. However, this surgery happened to cause infection in her body which lead to her death. For three weeks we spent days and nights in lingo and uncertainty about her health. My mom was stock between staying and taking care of me or take a chance and going to Iran to take care of her mom and risk losing me. It was a living nightmare for all of us. We knew that if my mom wouldn't go there was a certainty that we'd loose my grandma. Every night when she'd come home from work all tired and exhausted, my mom would lay on the coach in front of the TV completely silent. But her silence spoke loudly of how she felt inside. And it ripped my heart out of my chest to watch her. At the same time I also felt what my grandma must be going through in her hospital bed. Those who went and saw her say that she was conscience the whole time and her mind was sharp to the very end but she couldn't speak because she was intubated. I miss her dearly still and dream of her a lot. So for three weeks my mom spent the time she was home and free from taking care of me calling the hospital in Iran to get updates on how my grandma was doing and they even let her talk to her even though my grandma couldn't respond. It was brutal to witness and I kept imagining what my grandma must've thought and felt during that whole time. My mom would walk around like a zombie on timer getting up for work in the morning and coming home in the evening with the same look on her face. We can only feel our own pain, and I am here to tell that I haven't felt so much pain on behalf of my parents as I did during those three weeks. I kept wishing for wings to fly in an instant to Iran and pick up and carry my grandma back to us so we could nurse her and take proper care of her till she got better again. At night, I lay awake praying for her and begging God to heal her and give us another chance to see her again. But to no avail. When the news finally came that my grandma had passed I had a very strange feeling. I was extremely sad but I couldn't feel my face or the rest of my body. I kept thinking this is just a nightmare and I'm going to wake up soon and walk downstairs to see my parents sit in our kitchen and eating dinner. But instead I felt worse and worse and as though I had been turned upside down hanging in mid air. I remember I started trembling so much that my mom noticed and had to control her emotions to not upset me any more than I already was. During that time my sister had begun college and we tried to not tell her everything because she was also going through some hard time with school and her own emotions over everything. So when she called a short wile later to get updates on our grandma my mom spoke to her in a very controlled and calm manner and told her what had happened. I don't really remember much of the rest of that time. I imagine my sister must've come home to be with us, and I think she did even though it was kind of late and my mom insisted on her staying in her dorm. We adored our grandma! She was the life of every party and gathering with her cheerful manner and laughter that would light up even the night. And when she laughed her face would turn dark red and her tears would start flowing. She loved to dance, sing, play music (she'd make almost any kitchen ware into an instrument! And she was great at playing domback on the back of a cooking pot or on the edge of the table), play cards with us, help my parents gardening, sow (she was a very skilled seamstress), cook amazing food and so much more. She was a woman way ahead of her time! She was extremely sharp and smart. She taught herself to write and read. She was always practicing on any scrap paper that she could get her hands on. When we were still in Iran and much younger she would watch us when my mom would go to work and when it became nap time she would lay down with us and tell us beautiful fairy tales of mermaids and princes who would marry in the depth of the ocean and live happily ever after. Her imagination was bottomless! And she would tell us beautiful tales! I would never get tired of listening to her fairy tales and she would always end up falling asleep along with the rest as I'd lay wide awake and waiting for an opportunity to sneak away from under her arm. It would be hard, but I'd still always manage. And now all of that energy was all gone! The word devastation couldn't do how we felt that night any justice. My grandma was life itself. She was always so full of energy and had such a spark for life. She would make us laugh, tell us tales, play games with us, teach us how to knit. She even was the initial person who made my mom take me to the doctor to have those large and strange nodules on my neck checked. That's actually how we found out that I had cancer the first time. Words can't begin to explain just how much we miss her still even after all these years. I'll never forget that very last day when we said goodbye to her in Sweden before we came to the States. Her face as very pale and her beautiful eyes were extremely sad. It was as though she knew that she'd never see us again.. If only we had an inkling of that too! I would've held her longer and kissed her more and breathed in her sweet scent harder and etched it in my memory to cary with me for the rest of my life. I do realize that my aunts may become very upset by reading this story. But this has also burned and weighted heavy on my mind for many years now waiting to be told. I think by writing about my grandma here I help cary her memory alive and hopefully my other cousins who didn't get to know her the way I did may read this and learn a little more about her through this story. Our grandma was a force of nature! In many ways my mom is just like her. And this can be both good and bad (: But that's a story for another day (:
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