By Manisha Sharma
This story is about my Aunt Rama (my mom’s elder sister), who lived close to our house in Delhi, India, and who left us forever in the first week of July 2016 after a brief hospitalization. She was very dear to us, a very loving and selfless soul to whom my mom and I were quite attached.
Aunt Rama had been hospitalized off and on for the last few years due to an ongoing illness, but we always expected her to get well and come back home. This time, however, she did not come back. Her death came as a terrible shock to me, my mom and her own family. This was compounded by the fact we had not been permitted to visit her in hospital, as she was in the ICU (intensive care unit).
Afterwards, thoughts of her never seemed to leave us, even for a moment. The very mention of her name or sight of her photograph brought tears to our eyes.
Afterwards, thoughts of her never seemed to leave us, even for a moment. The very mention of her name or sight of her photograph brought tears to our eyes. It was difficult to believe that she was no longer with us. But a few days after she passed away, I saw her in my dreams in a blue saree (the traditional dress of Indian women, which is made from a six-metre-long piece of fabric). Even though she had died of illness, she looked quite radiant and healthy in my dream and was sitting next to me. I recognized her and the dream ended.
The blue saree seemed familiar but I could not recollect where I had seen it. Again a few days later, while I was meditating and had almost fallen asleep, I saw her standing close in that same saree, smiling. I wanted to call to her and speak with her but I could not move. Just as in the dream, she looked radiant and happy. For some moments I felt as if I had really been with her, and it felt very peaceful. This vision lasted a few seconds until I was wide awake.
It would take some time for me to understand the meaning of this happening and of my dream before that.
A few days later, I was surfing through Facebook and found a photograph of my Aunt Rama in that same blue saree. In the photo she was with her son (my cousin) with whom I am very close. She was smiling with that same sweet radiance I had seen and felt in my dreams. Then I remembered taking that photograph myself a few years earlier during a visit to her home.
As years passed, I stopped missing her so much, and her memories remained as a beautiful thought of someone far but near.
As years passed, I stopped missing her so much, and her memories remained as a beautiful thought of someone far but near. I stopped seeing her in my dreams or thinking of her so often. I feel that the dream and later vision were a message that my Aunt Rama is well and happy, that we should not worry about her and only remember her smiling and happy face. These experiences have helped me recover from the shock of her passing away so suddenly and have helped me to accept the reality of her sudden death
Last week, however, after almost four years, I saw her once again in my dreams in that same blue saree. I got up wondering what message she was trying to give me this time. I immediately called her family and spoke to my cousin, who told me that my uncle (her dear husband), who feels unhappy without her presence, was not keeping well and had undergone a minor surgery the day before. A few years before her death, my aunt and uncle had celebrated their 50th marriage anniversary. I feel her being in my dream was a message that she remembers her family and wants us to be there with them, especially with her husband.
Seeing Aunt Rama in my dream again after four years makes me believe that those whom we love never go away, though they may not be physically present.
The Meaning of Forever Project continues to accept stories of comforting experiences with loved ones who have passed on, and of near-death experiences that have helped to show the continuation of life beyond the physical body. You can email your story to us email@example.com and you can find more about our project on our Facebook page, and our Meaning of Forever Website.