For Someone Special

Mariyam (1947-1989)
It's been 8 years since you've passed into the next world. Although I miss you terribly, the things you taught me are as fresh as the day you shared your wisdom with me.

I don't know if I believe in 'heaven' per se, but I do believe in the afterlife. I visit your grave and put a pebble on your tombstone, so that the pebble will turn to a soft, fluffy pillow and comfort your head as you rest peacefully in your afterlife.

I remember the day when you came into our lives, my mum had sciatica and was flat on her back in bed. You did everything to make our lives easier, cooking, cleaning and laundry. You were so sweet and kind, but as you had newly arrived from Denmark, you couldn't speak English, so slowly we taught you words, and you learnt them quickly. We became fast friends and you introduced your husband and sons to us, and we loved them just as we loved you.

Even when my mum got better, we kept you on because we wanted you to remain as part of our family. I remember when I got sick, you made me my favourite foods and brought them to me so I wouldn't have to get out of my warm bed. I gave you a hug and told you were wonderful and you just smiled at me.

One day you rang up and said that you had bad news. You came over and told us that your husband had a brain tumor. He was a brilliant computer scientist, but he was so quiet, you were concerned that everyone had taken the credit for his work and he never stood up to them and that this caused him surmountable stress that lead to his cancer. As the friend you were, we helped any way possible, but we watched your husband start to loose his speech and loose motor function. We saw you suffering too. I noticed one part of your eye change colour and I was concerned. I told my mum and she told me that you had enough to worry about and that I shouldn't tell you. I continued to worry, but for good reason. Not 3 months later you were diagnosed with Lung cancer that had spread to your lymph glands.

You tried many diets, from using organic fruits to organic liquids and the like. You started Chemotherapy treatments which made you ill. All we could do was comfort and support you. You fought for one year. My mum never let me visit you in hospital, she took me over on Sundays to your place where you taught me to meditate, whilst preventing your gorgeous doggy 'Cheetah' from taking tissues out of my pocket and eating them, making a mess all over the house with tissue fluff. You wanted 'Cheetah' to have puppies, but I didn't have the heart to tell you that the tattoo on her ear meant that she had been spayed.

We slowly watched you and your husband get worse. Today 8 years ago, mum took me to lunch, but as we went to the resturant we passed the Alfred Hospital. As we drove by, a dark feeling overcame me, I asked mum how you were (as I had just got back from a seminar). She said that you were in the Alfred hospital having treatment. For the first time ever, I asked if I could visit you in hospital. Mum looked at me and said "Are you sure" I answered yes. All through lunch I thought of you and could barely sit still, mum noticed and told me not to worry, but she drove us back to the hospital, sensing my distress.

We went up to the floor, were mum last visited you, and we couldn't find you. The nurses directed us to a dark room with all the blinds drawn. Mum and I were confused. I walked in and saw you lying there in the dark with your eyes barely open. I knew why you had called me to you. I took your hand and wiped your clammy forhead and I spoke to you calmly. Your boys were coming from Brisbane (they were staying with a foster family). I told you to hang on, but you were waiting for them to come anyway. Mum comforted your husband, who although had lost his voice and needed a wheelchair to get around, was in remission. I continued to hold your hand.

Three hours later your sons arrived. They wanted us to stay with you and 20 minutes later after they had arrived, I felt your hand go limp in mine. You had hung on with all your might, waiting for them to be with you.

Although you were gone, I felt at peace that I had you in my heart and I knew you were happy and safe in your new life. As you had spoken to my mum prior to your death, about adopting your sons, my mum looked into it, but your sons were already adults and were old enough to do what they chose to do. Our house was open to them always. Your husband came over all the time (when he was well) and we visited him in hospital, as he had turned for the worse a year after you had gone. We were their for him when he died. Your sons couldn't make it in time.

Yours was a tragic life, but you gave so much love and the love continues to grow. I always think about you, and in times of great stress I remember how you taught me to meditate, and I use it to help me through the dark times.

You and I had a special bond. A bond that still is not broken. Every year I light a candle for you, so that your soul continues to glow in this life too. How I loved you! How I still love you and will always remain your special girl..the daughter you never had.

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