In Good Company

Never had I felt an affinity with George and Barbara Bush until the recent passing of George H.W. Bush. I have more respect for him as a man and as a human being after learning of his service to his nation in WWII as a very young pilot, his devotion and fidelity to his wife, and his integrity, decency, and sense of duty as a US president. I only learned recently we had belonged to the same club because we were both bereaved parents. I was deeply moved by George Bush's eulogy on his father and when he mentioned his long departed sister, Robin, who had died of Leukemia at the age of three. Even though almost seven decades had passed since her death, Robin was still remembered and missed. It has been apparent in the remarks made this week by the Bush family that Robin's parents had never forgotten her, even after the passage of so many years. In his eulogy, George Bush hoped his father had joined his wife and was finally reunited with his beloved eldest daughter.

The manner in which the Bush family had revived the memory of Robin and the sorrow of Barbara and George in losing her over sixty five years ago, validated my strong belief in the fact that one never recovers from the loss of a child. Although Barbara and George were lucky to have many more children and grandchildren, but no one had ever replaced their Robin and their sorrow lived in their hearts for all these years, no matter where life took them, even at the White House.

The mention of Robin on national stage today was a testimony to the unconditional and everlasting love of parents towards their offspring and the eternal and undying sorrow at the loss of one. I felt vindicated today for always wearing black on Tuesdays in Shahdi's memory, for displaying many pictures of my departed daughter at home and at my office, for including her in my conversations, and for hoping that someday I will be able to reunite with her. Just as the Bush family hoped Robin had rushed to Barbara's arms in the other realm seven months ago, I hope when my time comes, the first soul I encounter and embrace would be Shahdi's.

If I am fortunate enough to be offered an eulogy after my passing, I hope my ardent desire to be reunited with my beloved daughter is clearly emphasized.

Five-Year Anniversary

I.            Five-Year Anniversary

On the eve of the fifth anniversary of Shahdi’s suicide, I sit at my desk at home, with a very heavy heart and teary eyes, thinking of the last five years of my life, of the five years of living without my beloved daughter. At first, I had decided against sharing my thoughts with anyone on this anniversary, but then I reconsidered because of Shahdi. I changed my mind in order to tell the truth and talk about the falsehoods and cliches on grief. Besides, Shahdi deserves to be talked about again. Shahdi deserves to be a topic of discussion once more. Shahdi deserves to be remembered and missed by all who still love her.

An Unexpected Messenger

A few days ago, while I was sitting at the airport in Chicago reading a book on my phone and awaiting my flight to Omaha, a lady sat down next to me. At first, I did not even look at her. But, once she started making calls and describing the events of the day to others (including missing her plane and having to wait for several hours for her next flight), I started losing my concentration, and unwillingly, listening to her conversation. I intentionally had selected a small table where the likelihood of someone joining me would have been low.  Had she been quiet and not distracting me from my book, I would have been totally fine with her joining me, however, she was kind of loud and hard to ignore. I was contemplating whether I should move to another location when she abruptly addressed me and asked me why I was not charging my phone since there was an outlet next to my phone (apparently, the outlet had been the main attraction for her). Once I was faced with such a question, I had to turn my head and actually establish eye contact with her. She was a middle-aged lady like myself, with a sweet and beautiful visage. I was immediately taken by her and explained to her that my phone was almost fully charged. But, she insisted on her request, and for some unknown reason I decided to oblige her and took my charger out of my bag and plugged it in. Once she was satisfied that her request had been fulfilled, she started talking to me about her trip, her children, etc. Her name was Barbara and she was on her way to Niagara Falls with some friends to celebrate her 60^th birthday.

General Toby

Toby Makinejad-Negahban

March 1, 2003 – August 2, 2018

My Beloved Toby,

In my imagination, I now see you in the loving arms of your sister, Shahdi, who fell in love with your puppy cuteness and big ears when she was nine years old. I remember vividly that glorious Sunday afternoon when she called me from Pet Doctor to ask me to come and meet you. I obliged and soon after, we walked out with the kindest, gentlest, most loyal and loving member of our family.

In my imagination, you are walking freely in a green park full of fragrant flowers with Shahdi by your side, breathing in clean air and filling your lungs with the aroma of roses and freshly–cut grass while you are being caressed and loved by her. You are fed as much milk, kabob, and dental chews as your heart desires without worrying about getting sick and making your parents upset by having to clean up after you!