Nectar of the Gods

A couple of summers ago, we visited Vancouver.  On the last day of the trip, we met up with an old friend of mine from university.  We all went for a bike ride along the seawall.  He is the type of person that will have a long and meaningful conversation with a small child, even one that he has just met.  He asked my daughter what her name "Amrita" meant.  I don't know what type of response he was expecting from my shy 6-year old. But she responded, seriously and with a certain authority, "Nectar of the Gods."  because that is what her grandfather, her dadu, had told her.  He was impressed with the meaning and the way she had said it and he wrote to her a few days later, addressing her as "Nectar of the Gods."

We could not have chosen a more perfect name for our daughter.  Because that is what Amrita is. If the Gods have a favourite drink, I believe it would taste like Amrita. I believe it would be sweet like guava - not overly sweet - infused with the fragrance of spring lilac  and mint, and the sound of birdsong with the fragility and beauty of a butterfly. Because that is what Amrita is like. To be sure, she is no angel.  She is sprinkled with mischief and is frustratingly slow at every task and drives me crazy by not liking any fruit except apples. Quiet and shy at school, at home she is our family clown, keeping us all in stitches, especially her older brother. (Older brother is pretty awesome too - kind and generous - he will get his own post another time.)

I had the chance to drink in my nectar of the Gods yesterday as I accompanied Amrita's class on a school trip. The long bus ride gave me the chance to observe just how sweet she is and how she interacts with her classmates and teachers. She is sweet and good and is a good friend to everyone. Everyone loves her.  At the same time, she is never part of any "in" group.  On the bus, the children could sit in groups of three, but she was always the fourth.  No room for her.  Same thing at the lunch bench. Same thing while walking. I have seen this happen with Amrita and any group of kids. She always has to try so hard to fit and be heard.

It made me sad and love her so much more (if that is possible).  Because I know I am like that too.  I have friends, and I know that many people care about me.  But I am also always that 4th person that doesn't fit and has to remain slightly outside the circle.  Sometimes that makes me sad for me and sad for her. 

When she sat with me on the bus ride back and we snuggled together, I thought that I am her real and true bff.  And then it made me so sad to think that I might have to tell her that I have cancer and that she may have to see me sick and weak with treatment and with no hair and may have to see me die and be left motherless and that made me cry and cry and cry.  Just like my own bff, my sister, died and left me and left a hole in my life forever.

I went to my doctor today and told him that I was sad and I wanted him to give me something for that - not just Ativan for anxiety.  He asked me why I was sad.  I told him the story of the bus ride and Amrita being left motherless.  He said that that was very sad.  But he was pretty sure that it wasn't going to happen.  He said he was pretty sure that if it was cancer, it would be an early stage one. 

Instead of an anti-depressant, he told me to meditate and that my mantra should be, "At this moment, there is no evidence of cancer." 

"Yes, but there might be evidence of cancer in two weeks."

"Ah, but you are jumping to the future.  Stay in the present.  'Right now, there is no evidence of cancer.'"

"Well, can I just add that, "even if there is evidence of cancer, it will be at an early stage'?"

He laughed and told me I was funny.  "Yes, you can add that."