delara, interrupted

I'm still reeling from the experience I had this morning, so allow me a moment to catch my breath...

Having stayed at my mom's place again last night, I had one of those moments when I thought to myself, "Who is benefiting more from me staying here?" The mutual benefit is clear to me this morning.

I awoke with energy earlier than I had planned, having just dreamt about my grandmother (my Maman joon*) and grandfather. In and of itself, it's not so strange I might dream about family, except that I had never met my grandfather because he passed away when I was 3 or 4 years old, so I really have no memories of him. Yet, there he was in my dream, wearing a party hat and all. That's an important detail only because I don't think in this life he EVER would have worn a party hat! Too distinguished and elegant a gentleman. But I digress...

So, I had gone to the airport with my mom, Farren and two of my cousins to pick up Maman and Baba joon. The airport was CRAZY - people were running everywhere, there was a lot of yelling, it was chaotic. We pulled up, and I got out with my cousins to look for our grandparents. We spotted them immediately, drawn to the luminous smile my grandmother always had - a smile so wide it made her eyes disappear into thin lines and so mischievous you'd think she had just heard the best joke. Those cute little apple cheeks! She totally glowed. We all embraced and cried a tiny bit - it had been a long time since we had seen them. Years, perhaps. She was a bit wobbly and needed some assistance walking, so we had brought her a walker, which she categorically pushed away with a "tsk" sound. Typical, and so cute. Instead, she grabbed my cousin's arm and had him escort her to the car.

Once in the car, someone made a comment about something. (some details are a bit fuzzy) And in the most perfect English, my grandmother responded with a few wise words. All of us looked at her, stunned. Although she knew a few conversational words, she never really spoke English with us. We always spoke in Persian. Either mom or I asked her where she learned to speak English so well, and she replied, "Well, Delara wasn't learning Persian quickly enough, so I decided to learn English over the past 6 years so that I could tell her what I needed to."

My heart jumped. I was so completely moved - and a bit amused. She had learned this language for me? Simply to talk with me? Wow. I had better listen up then.

It was a sweet conversation, very light and happy. When we arrived home, it still seemed pretty chaotic. We had all gathered for someone's birthday - hence my grandfather's party hat. Lots of family was there, and we had a big celebration.

When I awoke, what struck me was how thin the veil between this world and the next can be. I felt comforted, warm, happy to have seen them in my dreams. And then, I realized it was the beginning of November. "Wait a second... this is right around the time my grandmother passed away three years ago," I thought, although I can never remember the exact date.

I got up quickly from bed, went to my mom's room, and hurriedly asked, "What is the date of Maman joon's passing?"

She smiled - that same wonderful smile that Maman joon had. "November 1st. I was going to suggest we say some prayers in her remembrance last night, but it got too late."

My heart literally skipped a beat. I could not stop myself from crying. The tears just came, although not from sadness - from realization. I was stunned by the "coincidence" although I know full well there is no such thing. It all happens for a reason. Maman joon never came up in conversation yesterday, I never thought about her - and yet, there she was, plain as day in my dreams, having learned a language just so she could talk with me.

I related the dream to mom, and it seemed to her that I am being watched over and cared for. If that is the case, then I am very lucky. And although completely unaware of the implications of our timing, I am happy to have been with my mom on what I know would have been a difficult night for her had she been alone.

I am dumbfounded by the level of synchronicity happening for me right now - conversations with friends about parallel experiences; reading articles about women and writers that resonated so deeply I could not help but cry; the questions I have asked myself in my head; the paths clearing for me... all culminating in this morning's dream. If you can call it that. I am not sure what it all adds up to, but I'm hooked. I've got to see how this story ends.

My alarm just went off... and played Sarah McLachlan's "Angel". How fitting a conclusion to this chapter. I am humbled.

(*In Persian, the word joon literally means life. When used in conjunction with someone's name, it's a term of endearment like dear or sweetheart, but it goes much deeper because of its meaning. I always called my maternal grandmother Maman joon because she was so precious to me. And apparently still is.)