Childhood Memories - Mehran Assembly Hall

Thursdays, for many reasons, were always my favorite day of the week at Mehran School. Firstly, it was a half-day school day and we would get off at noon. Secondly, due to being a half day, teachers rarely scheduled an exam on Thursdays. Thirdly, sometimes, the school would show a movie in the assembly hall an hour before dismissal. The assembly hall was on the fourth floor of the building and was quite large. It had a stage too where many plays and musicals were performed by students over the years. The room also served as an examination hall on a regular basis, particularly for upperclassmen. But, its most favorite usage for me personally was during the periods when a movie was shown, as a perfect ending to a busy week of learning. If I recall correctly, the movie days were always a surprise and they would not let us know in advance. I suppose it was kind of like a pop-quiz with the difference that instead of instilling worry and fear in our hearts, it would instill joy, excitement and relief. I can still feel the exuberance and the commotion in the hall when students were competing for the best seats and the apprehension and guess-work to find out what movie was selected.

New Year's Eve Message

On the eve of a new Persian New Year and the beginning of spring, I have been reading up news on the status of COVID-19 disease around the world.  The news is certainly sobering and quite contradictory to the expected spirit of such a night. Iranians have celebrated the festival of Nowruz for thousands of years, and this is the first time, in my lifetime, I have witnessed a halt to typical Nowruz traditions, both inside and outside of Iran. All New Year events, gatherings, visits, trips, shopping, concerts, and parties are cancelled all over the world. COVID-19 has managed a feat which the hardliners in the Islamic Republic were never able to achieve in forty-one years of power! COVID-19 has brought Iran to its knees. I have this overwhelming sense of dread and despair for the innocent people of Iran who, for over four decades, have been tangled up in one devastating event after another caused by their government and the constant feud between the governments of Iran and the United States. The nation of Iran is being ravaged by COVID-19 presently, but due to the US sanctions, the Iranian people are succumbing to this virus in large numbers due to lack of medical supplies and the long suffering of medical facilities from shortage of equipment, parts, medicine, etc. Even now, as the world is in the clutches of an epidemic, the US sanctions are not yet lifted and the horrifying plight of Iranians are overlooked by the world. I am extremely worried about my homeland, but more importantly, I am worried about the fate of my parents, aunts, cousins, and friends. I feel totally helpless.

The Little Scion that could

Today I had to part with a dear companion forever. A companion who had served me most loyally for almost fifteen years and who had provided me with countless hours of entertainment, listening, and counseling. A companion who had never lost its patience with me and silently let me unburden myself over the years of my heartaches, frustrations, and despair.

The human heart’s capacity for love is immense, and most of us are capable of bestowing our love on not only our fellow humans but also on animals, and sometimes on material objects as well. We all have a favorite piece of clothing that we cherish and cannot discard, or memorabilia from different stages of our lives or travels that we have kept for ages, or the cup that someone gifted us many years ago, etc.  We humans are able to get attached to anyone or anything that we come in contact with that holds a special sentimental value for us.

I personally can get easily attached to most things, from my family, friends, coworkers, neighbors to my favorite café, grocery store, restaurant, etc., and lastly to my car.

Today was a hard day because I had to leave behind my little buddy, Scion, on a car dealership lot in Iowa and return home with Ruby, my new car. Scion was not simply a means of transportation for me. It had been my silent companion for almost fifteen years. That little car was filled with precious memories.

Reality of Dreams

Every night before I close my eyes, I say goodnight to Shahdi. I tell her how desperately I miss her. I tell her how much I love her. Sometimes I get more emotional and shed some tears in silence, not to alert Mehrdad because I do not wish to upset him by disturbing his mental equilibrium right before falling asleep. Last night, my emotions became overwhelming. Maybe because I had just heard about the sudden death of the son of a coworker, who happened to share Shahdi's birth year. While I was struggling to reign in my emotions, I begged Shahdi to comfort me by visiting me in my dreams. I told her I needed her. I needed her touch, her support, her love.  I asked her to come to  me. Shortly afterwards, I fell asleep.

Red Cardinal

Yesterday was Nowruz. The start of spring and the Iranian new year.  For hundreds of millions of people around the world, it represented a joyous event, the celebration of spring and a new year filled with possibilities. Alas, for me, it was a sad reminder of Shahdi's absence. I was not in a good mood the entire day. There was no enthusiasm for any of the Nowruz rituals. Had it not been for Mehrdad, instead of eating the traditional Nowruz dinner, we would have had leftovers. My melancholy mood continued during my commute home. When I pulled into the garage and got out of my car, I was immediately drawn to this delightful chirping coming from the top of a tree by our driveway. I stepped out, looked up, and there it was, a little red cardinal with a golden voice!  I was transfixed in place and mesmerized by its singing. I thought to myself maybe this little bird was a messenger from Shahdi, trying to cheer me up in this first hour of spring. What a nice thought! I wish thoughts alone could soothe a broken heart. 

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!

Four-Year Anniversary

​The fourth anniversary of Shahdi's departure is fast approaching (11/26). Life has not been and will never be the same without her. Her memory is constantly in my mind, visiting me at all times. She carpools with me every morning and evening in the same car where she and Lauren were once my teenaged passengers on the way to the Southpointe Mall. In the mornings we listen to NPR and I fill her in on the changes since her absence, and in the evenings, we listen to the same melancholy Spanish songs that my brother had selected for me shortly after her death. I have not yet been able to replace this CD with another one. The same way that I have not been able to touch Shahdi's clothes, books, and shoes which are still in her closet. I hope I can literally force myself to give a few of the books to my cousin's little girls as a gift from Shahdi this weekend.