Of Signs and Doubt

I’m sorry I ever doubted… I was in doubt and it didn’t do me any good…The joy I felt thinking that it was Maci that sent me that wonderful book vanished slowly and allowed doubt to creep in. What if the thought that Maci sent me the book to help me live through the change was just an illusion? What if it was pure coincidence?

I cried and got really upset at myself for losing confidence. I was feeling remorseful for overthinking things and continuously splitting hairs until all the magic was gone… What’s the use of it all? Everything is just as hard as always… Again, I find myself looking desperately for signs… Again, to my bewilderment, they continue to appear… Yesterday, our best friend Andreea received a book which bears a striking resemblance to mine :) “SMS For You” – It’s a similar story to the one in the book I received.

Better take a look at their covers yourself… It's amazing, I know. :)



Should I ever doubt that Maci sent me “P.S. I Love You”? I will keep myself from making any other comments. :)

The First Day

My childhood was troubled. As a kid, I had to learn lessons of adjustment and survival that no child should ever learn… My fight for life started in my mother’s womb. I was born premature, with a complex heart malformation. At that time, the doctors gave me zero chances of survival. Therefore, they suggested that my mother should leave me there, in the hospital… Even though I was supposed to die, even though I was tiny and fragile, black and ugly, like a baby crow, as my mom would say, her love was so strong that I actually made it. Her love and care for me was the most miraculous remedy.

However, it’s not about my first day on Earth that I wanted to talk to you about, but I keep getting lost in my own thoughts…

Back to the story, not only did I survive longer than expected, but I actually lived long enough to see my mother part with this world. I was only 12 when I got deprived of her immense love. Long empty years followed. I couldn’t understand why I had not died at birth, why I had to live through so much pain. I tried to understand what my purpose was. I couldn’t help wondering “Why me?” Those years were full of unanswered questions. They were long years of soul-searching, where I hoped that someday I would love and be loved back again.

I was 20 and I was full of dreams and hopes. I was a 1^st year student at Hyperion – The Faculty of Film, Theater, and Television. I got in at the top of the list, but it did not really matter that much because I had failed the entrance exam at the Painting Class of the National Academy of Fine Arts and that hurt a lot. Back then, I was working in television (Canal 38). I was a scenographer and I was happy I was making enough money to pay for my studies. My passion for painting kept burning me out though. I was missing my colleagues at the High-School of Fine Arts, so quite often I would drop by National Academy to see them.

It was a sunny day that late fall. I was extremely tired and at the same time happy because, even though I was only a scenographer, I managed to do some TV documentaries for the winter holidays. During the day, I would go to classes and to work (shows and shootings), and at night I would stay up late on the set, polishing the shooting we did during the day. I was really exhausted because of the heavy schedule. I would often fall asleep during classes. On the one hand, I was happy with my choices – I felt that I was outdoing myself. I often had the feeling I was some kind of star, although no one knew how much I cried whenever I was by myself and how much I was hoping to continue my painting studies at the Academy.

The first day was that very beautiful day in the fall. I felt like dropping by my former colleagues. I was missing the smell of oil colors. In a jolly careless spirit, I entered the studio where I knew I’d find my friend Ema. The studio was bathing in the warm light of the afternoon, looking splendid with its neat agglomeration of easels. Almost all of my colleagues had already left for classes, all except Ema and, somewhere, behind a distant easel, the Sun himself. He was slim and tall, slightly arrogant, and quite lost in his thoughts. He was wearing ankle-boots, black jeans, and a purple sweater. Long sandlike golden curls were flooding his shoulders, down to his back. His eyes were green like the sea and he smelled like holiday. He didn’t seem to notice me, which made feel uncomfortable. I found that weird… because I knew him, but he didn’t give a damn…

“What the heck is that? Who in the world is this guy and why is he making me feel so strange?” I was thinking to myself. All of a sudden, I felt insignificant, intimidated. I thought I was dressed in a childish weird way, which… I kinda was. I was wearing black velvet tights and a sweater sporting a 70cm large satin illustration of one of Snow White’s dwarves… I’m sure I was not able to catch his attention with my femininity, but I was amusing enough for him to notice me. Not only was I dressed funny, but my nose was red and swollen too. I had shingles because of the stress and the hard work that I had to deal with every day. Later on, I had many pet names, and “Rudolf”, Santa Clause’s reindeer was one of them.

All the time I was in the studio, I made sure talked a lot and in a loud voice. I was hoping to get his attention. As I left the studio, I found myself shy and quiet on the outside. But inside, I was the most exuberant and noisy human being in the universe. I remember asking Ema who that haughty guy was. She immediately sensed I was interested.“Relax, Andrei is single. Surely, there are many girls around, but…” she said laughing.Ema was lying. I don’t know why she felt the need to reassure me and give me hope, but it doesn’t matter anymore… The truth was that at that time he did have a girlfriend and lots of other flings. Fortunately, I trusted Ema. Otherwise I don’t know how our story could have possibly started…

My heart was beating wildly, but it no longer belonged in my chest. It was slightly moving up my throat, for it was preparing to fly. Just like a bird struggles to escape its cage. I could no longer listen to whatever Ema was telling me, I was no longer able to see and hear what was happening around me. I had left my whole being, my mind and my soul right there in the studio, near my curly blond holiday. As if it wasn’t enough, my brain started to record something new, something unknown, something harmonious and by all means good. It was a strange bond that I had never felt before, but have truly felt ever since… I will talk about this in my future posts. Starting that day, I felt an unexplainable joy. I was living in a hopeful state of mind, without arrest. Everything felt good and beautiful. I was waiting like a kid waits for his birthday cake. I was waiting impatiently as I was sure I would meet him again soon. 

The first day was that intense… Like a blinding light, like an endless happiness which can almost kill you under its weight.What is truly amazing is that all these years, the best years of my life, I have been able to feel that immense unaltered joy in loving Andrei. The strongest, most full of life and real feeling is that I am still carrying within this divine vibration called love. My God, Maci, how much I love you! My love, the strength and courage you’re giving me to carry on…

P.S. Yesterday, July 28th, I received the most beautiful gift of my life. I wrote a few words on Facebook about the joy it brought me.

“My Andrei has sent me something beautiful today.  The other day at the cemetery, I was telling him I wanted to read a book in German during my vacation in Romania. I was telling him I wanted an easy-to-read book to soothe me, one that I could relate to… I didn’t look for one in particular, I just waited. The next morning, as I laid the clothes to dry on the rack in front of my house, one of my neighbors came to me and said “Daiana, I have something for you!” And she handed me this book “P.S. I Love You”, by Cecelia Ahern. I was happy like a clam. How could I get it to my head it cannot be just a coincidence? What do you think about this lovely book my Maci sent me?

The Threshold

Last night was a big threshold for Maci and us… Last night was the 40^th night… It’s been 40 days already…

I haven’t been writing anything until today. I simply couldn’t do it anymore. I felt the need to stay away from everyone. Sometimes, my feelings  become so intense that words lose meaning or purpose, for that matter… Yet, there are times when words come to me so naturally that I don’t see why I should resist them.

Soon after my first posts, I felt as if standing at a crossroads. I was so amazed at the number of people who read my posts that I got really scared and refrained from writing. I had to stop and see what I had to do next.

I may continue writing about my love without getting discouraged by erroneous prejudices or comments regarding my writing style, etc. I will continue writing just like before, wholeheartedly. If it does me good, then this is how it’s going to be. To me, writing is therapy: it helps me accept things, it gives me the strength to move forward, it protects me. Therefore, I will keep writing.

I am very much aware that you cannot find the right words to tell me or that you do not know how to act around me. That you’re struggling for the proper approach. Well, you should know that the girls and I are in the same (uncomfortable) situation. I do not know what to tell you either, but don’t be afraid. It’s still me, it’s still the same Daiana, only sadder and more adrift than usual. Other than that, it’s still the same dreamy and forever-in-love me. It feels good to see you unchanged, to watch you act normal. Whenever you call me, the hardest thing to handle is your questions, your desire to find out details about what happened. Please be patient with me, I will answer your curiosities here, in writing, but slowly, at my own pace. In exchange for my confessions, I am asking you to try to act normal for me and around me. Please don’t expect me to tell you what happened because I cannot talk about it. I will however write about it…

Going back to my beloved Maci, we are both Orthodox by birth and, according to our religion, the soul travels in its dearest places and visits its close ones for 40 days. All this time, the good and the evil forces are fighting over the soul of the dead. On the 40^th day, depending on the direction of the scale, God sends the soul to a temporary place, until the Judgment Day. That is the threshold…

You have no idea how hard I have been searching for answers all this time. I have to admit my faith is not that strong, and that made me fall and stand up, believe and renege on everything so many a times. It was a painful battle, but eventually love conquered once more. At least, that is how I feel. I feel Maci is the light and the love; he is in everything that's beautiful and good around me.

An acquaintance told me that she had a dream about Andrei. As she said, he came up to her wrapped up in light and accompanied by an angel. Many friends had dreams about him and told me similar stories: “Andrei is well”, “He misses you”, “He loves you”, etc. :)  A monk told me not to worry because Andrei is in the care of an angel and he is doing fine wherever he is. In a way, all these stories were alike; they only varied in form. I have to confess all of these stories gave me the energy to go on, even though I often doubted they were true.

These past weeks, I’ve been begging Maci to visit me in my dreams, to comfort me and give me strength, to send me signs that would relieve the fear. When he was still with us, I would often have dreams about him and would often make jokes about not being able to fantasize about anyone else. :) After his passing, I was terribly frustrated because I only had 3 dreams about him and only once did my soul fill with joy – it was in my last dream, at the threshold of these 40 days. 

I think I already told you that, ever since Maci left us, a strange dialogue keeps popping in my mind: “Maci, can you feel me? And my mind keeps answering back. “Yes, I can.” And my thoughts get carried away. Each and every day, three questions and answers keep coming back. “Maci, can you hear me?” “Yes, I can.” “Do you love me?”, “Yes, I do… and finally my most recent dream has once again answered these three questions. :)

In my dream, Maci was wearing his blue linen shirt. He was beautiful and in good spirits as always. He was sitting at a table, eating. Although my consciousness was aware that it was only a dream and Maci was no longer with us, I went up to him and hugged him. It was such a joy and at the same time such a wonder that I could feel his physical presence that I had to tell him.

“Maci, I can actually feel you!”

“Of course, you can. What were you thinking?” he said with a smile.

He was talking a bit slowly, so I went on.

“Maci, you left and you only came back in this dream. Look, you can’t even talk the way you used to.”

He burst out laughing and started to talk like in the old days (he was teasing me again).

“So what if I left?" he answered smiling.
I was dumbfounded, at a loss for words. I was so happy to see that nothing had changed and at the same time so terribly scared that someone would wake me up from my sleep. I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. 

So, I asked him: 

“Maci, tell me quickly, what is it like on the other side?”

“It’s beautiful, it’s good, it’s perfect!” he replied in his usual laidback style.

“Perfect? I asked him in surprise, waiting for more details. But Maci swiftly changed the topic.

“My feet feel really cold... that water was so cold…”

I was not surprised to hear that, since he had hypothermia. I took a better look at him and noticed he was bare-footed.

[I would like to mention that I was not allowed to bury him with his shoes on, for ecological reasons.]

In my dream, I remembered his red Converse trainers and reassured him:

“Don’t you worry! I will handle this very soon!” I realized that I need to give them away. I hugged him one more time.  He felt so full of live, it was unbelievable.

“I miss you and the girls!” he said.

I felt overjoyed and overwhelmed. I glanced at my watch. Apparently, we were in some kind of rush. I noticed it was 5.30 pm. Then I caught a glimpse at a couple of friends waiting for us in their car. I realized we were supposed to meet them, so I told him.

“Maci, we’re going to be late for the christening of Alina’s baby boy. We need to hurry!”

[Alina is our good old friend. We were the spiritual parents at her wedding, and the godparents of her little girls. As a matter of fact, Alina got pregnant around Andrei's passing.]

"Wait, we cannot be here and there at the same time!" Andrei said.
"Here where?" I asked him, but then I woke up alone in our bed.... 

Reality hurt so bad that I closed my eyes forcefully so that my dream would continue, so that I could hold on to that feeling of well-being that I would always have around my Maci... In vain... I could not make my dream go on, but I can still hope... Somewhere, sometimes we will be together again! Of that I'm sure!

I love you, Maci. Thank you for visiting me in my dream now, as you've just crossed the threshold towards the light. May your journey be safe, my love, and although it hurts to admit this, I know you are well...

Maci, I Miss You

It’s been 30 days. 30 long days. Long, sad, and hard days.

I know we are supposed to learn to laugh again and I swear we will be able to do that somehow…someday… even though I do not know exactly how. As always, I will listen to my heart... It always showed me the right way.

Today’s post was supposed to be about our first day, about how I first met Maci. But I feel so tired I think I’m going to leave it for later. It deserves an unaltered narrative. It deserves to be written with a light and joyful heart.

The girls are already asleep. This evening has been somewhat easier than the past few. May your sleep be light and smooth, my sweet babies, and may we have a dream of our dearest Maci tonight!

A Journey of Love

Andrei. My Maci. My Dusa. Or even simpler than that, the most beloved human amongst us all. I’ve always known that love does not die, that love is the only thing that travels through space and time and between worlds. I still believe that, from the bottom of my heart.

Right before meeting Maci for the very first time, I had just finished Rebreanu’s “Adam and Eve”. That fascinating love story… From the moment I laid my eyes on Andrei, I knew. That very first second, even though I could not make any sense of it, I realized I had met him before. It was clear to me that I already knew him. Since forever, since the beginning of time, since the beginning of the world. In an instant, my soul, my entire being recognized him… yet my brain, stubborn as it was, refused to put everything together. The mystery behind that moment troubled my consciousness and destroyed any logic that I was capable of. Indeed it was HIM. He was the one I was waiting for. He was my Adam, I was his Eve. Together we were one, just like in that piece of fiction that had mesmerized my mind before our first encounter.
What I'm about to share with you is no fiction. It's our love story as I saw it, our love story seen trough my eyes. It's out of  love, about love, and for love that I feel this immense need to write.It's a story for my love. It's a story for our daughters, the fruits of our love and desire. It's a story for all those who love us and have witnessed our flight as a whole, our journey as one (Mara, Sara, Andrei, and Daiana). It's a story for those who have known love and have come to the truth that love is truly the best energy in this universe, the greatest of them all, the one that shines the brightest. Love is this life's engine. Exactly one month ago, my Maci chose a  different path... Farewell, my love. I'm always with you...Maci, can you hear me? I can hear you... Can you feel me? I can feel you... Maci, do you love me? I love you...

P.S. This blog is open to anyone who wishes to join us on this new journey. Any thought or story that can complete the image of our wonderful Andrei in the eyes of our sweet little girls is more than welcome. A big hug and thank you to all of you who wish to stay close.

Love,
Daiana

Riding on a Single Wheel

Day 28. 

Another day went by without as much as a single laughter. Days pass by slowly, at a snail’s pace. I’m trying to fill them with all things, little things, so that I can make it easier for the girls. It’s useless, as everything has changed. Our sunrises are not the same anymore. Every day we stay outside the house for as long as we can and we come back home as late as possible, because falling asleep without hugs or roars of laughter is just too much to bear for us three.

Today we were on our way back home, leaving behind the huge and lazy orange light of the sunset. I watched it in the rear window and had the feeling it simply did not set like it used to… Or maybe it just seemed that way…

The road was lying empty before us and behind us, when two motorbikes  caught up with us out of the blue. My heart throbbed so sudden and so hard you can’t even imagine. For a second, I thought it was Andrei riding that motorbike behind our car. Too short and too sweet an illusion! 

I waited for a little while, hoping to see the biker ride his bike on a single wheel, just like Andrei used to do, only to tease me. In vain. 

It’s hard to get it into my head that there’s no one left to do all that fooling around to cheer us up anymore. There’s no one left to ride his bike on a single wheel, no one left to do everything unlike anyone.

After a while, somewhere along the highway, we lost track of those bikers. Yet, my heart kept trembling with emotion at the illusive thought that it could have been my God on that motorbike. It should have been him. Or maybe I was trembling because of the emptiness that came with the realization. I could not tell exactly what it was… 

I remember myself gazing at him on that Friday, the day of the accident. He rode his bike on one wheel down the street, until he reached our driveway. The girls ran outside to greet him. He was happy and optimistic as always, and Sara hung her arms around his  neck like a baby monkey. 

I watched him for a while, feeling proud and thinking to myself that our Maci was a hell of a guy, the most beloved human amongst us all, as I would often call him. And on top of everything else, he was handsome too. That’s how we, his girls, would see him. Not even for a tiny second did it occur to me that it was the last time I would rejoice in his presence.

Today we startle at the sound of every scooter or motorbike that passes us by. Around the time he used to come back home, we become anxious like sparrows… We wait and listen  closely to every footstep, but our Maci is not coming back…

There’s nothing left, but a turmoil of emotions, the remainings of daily habits that have become unbearable, and lots and lots of love.

My Maci, we love you so dearly…