“Song of Solitude” ~ Freydoon Rassouli
As it turns out, the Genesis post was not the beginning of my spiritual awakening after all.
It hit me—as I was comforting someone in an email over the loss of her father—that my family witnessed a miracle years ago.
Thirty-four years ago, my father died in our New York City apartment. My two sisters, mom, and I were all there. I was 10.
I still remember the moments as though they happened yesterday. My mom screaming: “Matty, wake up!” Me pleading with the housekeeper to call the doctor. Desperate. My five-year-old sister squeezing a wet tissue over his flaccid face. People—strangers—appearing out of nowhere. Some to comfort us. Some to take our Daddy away.
Surreal those moments. The pain. The exquisite pain of loss. Heartache. Fear. Grief. My daddy was gone. I’d never see him again. How did it happen in a matter of hours? How? In the middle of my sister’s piano lesson. In the middle of a rerun of “The Love Boat.” My sister interrupting me, telling me mommy was yelling and to go check. Right away. Me, the older sister, telling her to go back to her lesson. She was just imagining it.
No. She was not imagining it at all. We walked as though in a Dali painting with the clocks melting and reality drifting hazily in living color yet displaced. The picture, not right.
We were devastated. In shock. I’ll never forget those dark days that followed. But the first night after it happened, a praying mantis appeared on our window.
If we lived in the country, maybe this would not seem so remarkable. But we didn’t. We were 25 flights up in the middle of New York City. Rarely did we see a fly whiz past the window.
We knew it was a sign for us but didn’t know exactly what it meant.
Today, I know. Because I know how my life turned out since then. If only I could tell that frightened little 10-year-old girl that everything would turn out ok. Not right away. It would take time for the pit in her stomach to leave. It would take years to feel a little bit…normal again. But that it would happen eventually.
And that the prayers that my mother started saying from that day forward, 33 years ago, would be answered. And then some.
“Where Heavens Meet” ~ Freydoon Rassouli
Oh my–what a vivid story about your dad–I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My father’s death was memorable too, & my now-husband was there–it soldered us. I resonate so much with your concluding lines but for my children–I often wish I could see them in the future, so I would know that they’re going to be ok. When I was pregnant with my first son, I had a dream that I met him grown up as an adult, and he was a fine young man–I like to think that dream is a peek into the future, that he won’t get killed on the trampoline (:-), that some other tragedy won’t befall my youngest. I am very happy that your life is so good now, Sarita! The hard times of our childhood shape us into lovely, amazing people, as you very very much are.
Dearest Josie, don’t we all have our moments of despair and our moments of joy? These comprise the days and years of our lives. I hope that this post serves as hope for someone who may be struggling in the depths. Because having been there many times in my life I know that at some point when you hit the bottom, the only place to go from there is up. Much love, my dear Josie. We do relate to each other on so many levels. I feel the same way about you. xoxo
You DO know how to write! What a beautiful and sensitive post. LOVE that the praying mantis came to visit you . . . and see how closely related the word MANTIS is with MATIS (I don’t know if your dad’s Hebrew name was Matisyahu, but still!) It gives me chills. Keep doing what you do . . . the world is a better place because of it! Much love XOXOXO
You hit the nail on the head, Dvora. There has been some debate as to his actual name. One of the strong possibilities was Matisyahu. My enlightened friend. You know I love you. xo
Having just lost a loved one (although under very different circumstances), this post is timely and poignant. Thank you.
Dear Ava, I hope it brings you some comfort. Sending you a warm hug. xo
This is a starkly beautiful memory in its own right. Thank you for sharing it from your heart. This seems to be the year for reflections thus far, doesn’t it?
Yes, Kim, it does. Reflections and revelations. Thank you so much for your comment. It means so much to me. xo
Absolutely! I have something in the works alone these same lines as well (again). Have a meaningful day!
Wow, what a beautifully written post. Sorry to hear about your Dad. I was really touched by this post Sarita. When my grandad died, a little butterfly sat on the altar at his funeral. I didn’t actually go because I was really young and my mum didn’t want me and my sisters there but I remember her telling me about it and I will never forget it xx
Amber, what a beautiful symbol. I’ve always related the butterfly with liberation – as though once we depart from this earthly realm, the soul is free. What a lovely message for your grandfather to leave behind. Thank you for commenting and sharing. xo
What a beautiful post, so personal, so thoughtful and from the heart. I truly believe there are powers at work that we couldn’t even start to understand. In the depths of our pain and sorrow it is signs like this that give up strength and hope. Thank you for sharing this and thank you also to the wonderful people who have posted a comment and shared their soul also. Love always xx
Thank you for your beautiful and sensitive comment. How true that moments like these fill us with hope and carry us onward and upward. I feel blessed to meet people like you and these other wonderful people so that we can share and learn together. Much love xoxo
This story is so touching. Thank you for sharing it with us <3
In fact it resonates a lot with me… I lost my father after I just turned 17; and while we had something my half-brother later "identifyed" as a sign, it only came the night before the funeral. It was the most beautiful white and pink dove that settled on our balcony, that we could not chase away. so I ended up giving it water and bird food feeling it wasn't right to chase away a being that didn't want to go. I truly had no spiritual ideas that night, just my belief to not harm any living being willingly.
How poignant, Nath. Thank you so much for sharing. I think losing a parent at any age is extremely difficult and brings up many feelings. These “signs” or symbols give the rest of us hope during dark times. Sometimes that’s all the fuel that we have to go on. At least, that’s how it felt at the time. xo
with uS, obviously. share it with us 🙂