We celebrated Arman's birthday over the weekend in Kansas City (KC). It was Arman's first trip there as an adult.  We had visited KC many times over the years as the kids were growing up for visiting the amusement and water parks. We also took Shahdi alone to KC a couple of times before the start of the school because she was interested in shopping for school clothes at the Plaza. I believe the last time we did that was when Shahdi was about to start 9th grade.  A few of her favorite Plaza stores were Guess, Bebe, Anthropologie, and Free People.  

This time, from the moment we left home and started our drive down to Kansas City, I was thinking of Shahdi and how much I missed her.  Occasionally, I would close my eyes and try to imagine her sitting in the back seat, eating Cheetos and gummy bears, while having an animated conversation with Arman.  When she was younger, I used to point out anything interesting that I saw along the way: cows, horses, wind farms, flowers, etc.  Remembering the past made me very sad and tears started rolling down my face. Several times, I had to collect myself and quietly wipe off my tears so the others would not notice my sadness; after all, we were taking this trip to celebrate Arman's birthday and it was supposed to be a happy trip.  I suppose I acted convincingly enough, but, in reality, my heart was filled with an enormous longing for Shahdi and how I missed having her with us. Every place we went to, except for the BBQ restaurants (since Shahdi was a vegetarian), I thought of her. I got a chance on Saturday to stroll through the Plaza on my own for a couple of hours, and the entire time I was thinking of Shahdi.  A few times, I tried to envision her walking by my side. I tried to imagine us talking about which store to go to next, which of the new styles we liked best, when we should stop for some coffee or refreshments, which coffee shop to go too, etc.  All the very ordinary activities that occur when a mother and daughter go shopping together at the Plaza.  It still is very difficult to accept that I will never ever have such an experience with my daughter.  It is excruciatingly painful to accept that my daughter can no longer be interested in the latest fashion, or the newest stores, or the delicious cheesecakes at the Plaza's Cheesecake Factory, or a ride in the lighted Cinderella carriages. 

Basically, Kansas City had lost most of its charm for me because Shahdi was not there to enjoy it with us.  When we went to the miniature train museum at the Union Station, I had no idea that Shahdi's favorite train, "Thomas, The Blue Tank Engine",  was going to stir so much emotions in me. In fact, I had been there back in October and did not even notice Thomas in the corner! But, such is grief; it changes the color of everything you see, hear, and touch.  This time, I was pulled towards Thomas even though there were hundreds of more interesting trains on display.  One never knows when a sudden flood of emotions and grief will fill one's soul; it can happen anywhere, any time.

In short, our trip felt incomplete to me because our beautiful Shahdi was not accompanying us.  She was truly missed at every step of the way.