My cousin Marwa died on October 17, 2011. Marwa was murdered by someone whom she should have trusted. The details surrounding her death are gruesome and I can only hope that she was gone long before she felt anything. I know she is in a better place.

Marwa’s death came as an unfortunate surprise to everyone in my family. During the past few weeks, I’ve gone through a multitude of emotions – everything from pure shock, sadness, grief, disbelief, helplessness, to anger. In this time, I’ve had two dreams about her that I find rather significant:

Dream #1:
I first dreamed of Marwa a few days after her passing. The dream starts off with Marwa dead and all of us being distraught over the news. But then suddenly she appears. She is sitting on a couch and tells me that she wasn’t dead but that she had been away at work for a few days. She looked very very young – much as she did during her 20s. She had a short haircut and her hair looked like it had been poofed and blow-dried (she looked very similar to photos I’ve seen of her from the 80s). She looked happy and healthy. She seemed very playful. She had a huge smile.

Dream #2:
I just woke up from the second dream (I know I had another dream about her last week but I can’t remember that dream). In this dream, Marwa had survived her attack. Someone in the family (perhaps my aunt?) was saying that people at the train station she frequented (this makes no sense in real life because I don’t think she had a daily train commute) were donating money at the train station to show their support for her. I was waiting for her at the train station and suddenly she appeared from one of the trains. She looked much as she did the past couple of years (she was older than she had been in the first dream). Her eyes looked tired but very sincere and thankful. She had a giant smile. She was walking very slowly and in a measured manner, the way that someone who has suffered a brain injury does. She looked like someone who had survived a very horrific event (or perhaps a long journey) but was just so so thankful to be alive. As she tries to make her way to me, I quickly rush over to her and grab her arm to support her. We make our way to my car. As I’m driving my car, I’m saying a lot of things about the situation (in that nervous meaningless chatter that you do when you’re still in disbelief but can’t think of anything better to say) but Marwa isn’t saying anything. She seemed resigned to the situation, almost like she understood it more than me. Towards the end of the car ride, I say something about how we don’t have that type of rage in our family and that’s why we can’t comprehend it. At this point, I’m trying to figure out a way to tell her that I think she should see a counselor or therapist because of what she experienced. But I don’t. We arrive at my aunt’s house and get out of the car. She enters by herself and is greeted by a lot of joy, grief, crying, and hugs. I enter the house a minute or two later. Someone (perhaps my mom?) recognizes that I’m there (saying something along the lines of “here’s Noor”) and then I woke up.

There’s a part of me that wants to believe that these dreams are a sign of her soul visiting me and telling me that she’s OK. There’s another part of me that thinks these dreams are just my subconscious mind working its way through my grief. I really really want to believe that its her and not my mind.

Marwa was beautiful, funny, caring, and elegant. Marwa had strikingly captivating eyes. When you looked at Marwa, all you really saw were her eyes. She had a great laugh, the sort of physical laugh where her head would roll back. She was honest, direct, and sometimes blunt. I liked that about her. With Marwa, what you saw is what you got. I first met Marwa in the late 80s during her first wedding. I was about 8 at the time and all I remember thinking is how much she looked like a princess in her wedding gown.

The last time I saw Marwa was July 2010 in Edwardsville. Both my sister and I were home and she and her daughter dropped by my parents’ house to say hi. She seemed very happy and she was her usual funny self. We all chatted for a while. She told us about how worried she had been about her daughter transitioning from a Montessori school to a public school. She talked about how much time she was spending talking to her daughter’s new teachers, so much so that the teachers immediately recognized her when she called. We laughed. A lot. Lady Gaga was in town and she had wanted to get tickets for her daughter but they were sold out. Marwa was an amazingly dedicated mother. Her daughter was her life.

Marwa will be (is) missed. Tremendously.