The Jar Notes
What will you do if your heart is at stake? It was a hazy, dusty and humid day of September 4, 2000. I live in Olaf Village, the smallest town in Arizona where the bead-like sun shines brightly sneaking through the trees. Don't laugh, I know what you're thinking. Our village is like a Disney character name. But they have similarities, people here in Olaf village loves warm hugs too. A kind, lovely gesture. I moved here a year ago. I am originally based in Kuwait then decided to migrate after an interesting and riveting situation happened in my life. I live here with my friend Ruth and were both under the guidance of Ms. Catherine, her Aunt. I am currently working at Arizona Herald Printing Press as a writer. My boss, Mr. Painiaye gave me a small section in the newspaper called "The Villagers Tongue".
One thing so endearing about this village is the Ajil's Crepe House built for nearly seven years. It's a home of French cuisines. I particularly have an eye with crepe, waffles and clafoutis. By the way, it's my 362nd today. As I sat at the corner of the restaurant where I get a blissful, idyllic view of the place, Mr. Obaid the owner approached me and outlandishly joked that if I reach my 365th day, I will stop visiting his place. It was a bizarre thought. I go here every day. To have dinner and to write notes. I hand-over one jar to Mr. Obaid. He kept it in the pink drawer near the cupcake stand. Every day I will write, scribble a note and put it there. The note contains everything in my mind--my feelings, my frustrations, my hopes, prayers and my wishes. As I put my 362nd note today, I wonder how time flies. And how thankful I am for the gift of life.
Mr. Obaid is an Omani married to Olivia, a Singaporean. Their love and faith has been tested by the time. Countless hurdles along the way. Predictably, they came from different cultures and religion. Both of their families wants the best for them. But Mr. Obaid believes that all of us should choose our own happiness. If we let others choose it for us, that is their happiness. Not ours. Since he wants to live a life that matters, he left his family, business and everything he owns. He chose to fight for Olivia--his happiness. They moved to different places finding their bliss till they settled and got married here in Arizona. Mr. Obaid is like a father to me. He knows my story and struggles. Not everyone here in Olaf village knew why I came here. But I have a purpose.
A year ago, I was working as an English teacher at Diamond's University in Kuwait. I enjoy teaching kids. It has been my dream since I was young. A dream I am in the peak of fulfilling when someone changed my life. I met Ahmad, the Vice-President of our school's Procurement Group and a Kuwaiti. He came from a wealthy family that runs multiple businesses. He is the youngest among six siblings. He is 6'1 with glimmering eyes, cute pointed nose, golden brown skin and heavenly smile. Despite of his achievements, he remains humble, generous and very simple. He spends most of his time doing community services and volunteering. He loves helping people. He is an educator, speaker and youth enthusiast. He plays football on a weekend too.
I barely talk or see him. But one message started a beaming fire. He professed his interest in me, something I never took seriously in the beginning because I am one of those woman who believe we don't need a man to be complete. For 26 years, I am very independent. I like doing things on my own. I love painting and playing the piano. I've never been in any relationship and my life revolves around my work, family and my passion. No other loopholes.
Unexpectedly, his hard work and perseverance paid off. Ahmad and I created four bountiful memories in nearly short period of time when were together--a combination of worst and good ones. First memory, our never-ending weird dates with burgers, croissant and Nutella plus unstoppable exchange of "I miss you "and "I love you". Second memory, our first official kiss happened on a Thursday afternoon and our cute little bear we named as "King". Third memory, our surreal day of love where our feelings and heartbeat were on the same rhythm, hands locked and our eyes sparkled. And our fourth memory, the parting ways. The most difficult and excruciating. He can't be my home anymore.
We separated due to lack of acceptance of his family about our relationship. I thought love knows no boundaries but I guess that was not meant for us that time. Those reasons were exactly the same as Mr. Obaid. But then he was not yet prepared to fight for me. And I can't blame him, he can't just leave his family who's been with him all his life. While I'm just like a stranger with nothing to offer but my sincere love for him. That day, I feel like I lost half of my life.
The past few months I made myself busy. I traveled to Nepal. I focused on my work. I cut my hair and put up a clean slate without knowing he will come back again in my life for the second time. Still, I accepted him. This time were braver. More risky. All cards at stake. No holds barred. Our relationship bloomed for more than a year, gloriously happy despite the continuous opposition of his family. Finally, he achieved his only dream. To be part of the highest council in Kuwait. It is every Kuwaiti's dream, a privilege and an honor. It's like you reach the top of the mountain after a long and tiring hike. We were joyful and in daze. Then after few months, he changed drastically. He became so busy with his career and priorities and lost track of our relationship. It was a rock bottom. Then I found out that I am sick. I was diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. In short, I need a heart transplant in order to live. We separated for the second time. I left him while on his brim of his career and went to Arizona for treatment. Ruth's aunt is a heart surgeon. It was an escape for me.
I had a good fine year here in Arizona. Except that my treatment is not progressing. Medication is intoxicating. By the way, I finished my 363rd note. I'm almost done. On my 364th day, I finished an article. In the morning of my 365th, everything went blank. After three days, I woke up in a hospital bed. Mr. Obaid rushed when he saw me opened my eyes. I felt something different. So I asked him what happened.
I collapsed at the Crepe House. They brought me to the hospital. I was in a critical condition because my heart is not functioning well. They said I was just asleep the whole time, pale and ebbing. Most of the time not responding. I'm almost dead, like in a coma. Then I had a successful heart transplant. And here I am now. Thankfully alive. I survived. But it still a mystery. It's like a riddle I'm trying to solve. When Ms. Catherine told Mr. Obaid that they cannot do anything, he instantaneously called Ahmad. All this time they were communicating without my knowledge. Ahmad knows everything about my life in Arizona. In fact, he was my secret sponsor during my medication. For all I know it was the Arizona Heart Center Institute. He wanted to visit me for a long time but Mr. Obaid stopped him because of my heart condition. That it may get worse. That my heart may not hold up anymore once he comes back. And he understood it. At least he tried. He flew to Arizona the first day I was hospitalized. He met Mr. Obaid at the Crepe House. Mr. Obaid gave him my jar notes. He rushed to the hospital. He was on a brisk. Before he reached, he had an accident. He bumped into a truck. He was brought to the same hospital where I was confined already unconscious. Before he died, he left a message.
Ahmad donated his heart. It was right here with me, pumping and functioning in a good pace. I feel so alive. I can't believe everything that I heard. I feel like I'm floating in a cloudy sky while hoping it's just a dream. Or I'm just hallucinating. But it was not. I burst out in tears putting my hand in my chest, listening to my heartbeat. I want to feel him. He was no longer with me. He was up there. Maybe he's watching me right now reminding me to take care of his heart. Then Mr. Obaid gave back my jar notes. There was a little cracked on it and blood stains. When I opened it, I saw a note written 365th. Ahmad wrote the 365th note. He completed it for me. It was heartbreaking. The feeling is inconsolable. When I moved to Arizona, I began writing about him. The doctor said I only have a year to live. I wrote a note every single day of my life. I described him as my world, my happy pill, my graceful disaster and my hurricane. As I read his note, I feel like hearing his voice, so gentle and appealing.
Dear Ava, I waited for a year to see you again. Not a day passed I never think of you. You're always in my thoughts. When you left, everything in my life is unbearable. It was hard for me to live because you taught me that life should be best shared with someone you love. I always imagine the time that we can be together. I want to see your smile. I want to hear your voice. I want to feel your touch. From your 1st to 364th day, I am your silent presence. I was here with you all along. Till today I am writing your 365th. I am sorry for everything. I hope you can still forgive me. Everything that happened to me is nothing because you weren't there. You're my happiness. You're my lucky charm. You give meaning to my life like no one ever has. You have to wake up. I have a lot of things to say. And when you wake up, something is waiting for you. And I promise that something will stay with you, forever. Meet me at the Arizona Herald Printing Press once you read this. Love, Ahmad
I went to Arizona Herald Printing Press after reading his letter. I found on my table our bear King and a music box. I sat down and hugged King. Then I suddenly pressed his chest and there's a recorded voice, "Ava, will you marry me?" When I opened the music box, there's a ring. He was about to proposed and waiting for me to wake up. But he died the same day. In our life, we cannot force someone to stay and we don't know how long they will stay. Life is unpredictable. We cannot choose when we will get our first heartbeat and whom we will love. Ahmad build our destiny. I choose him. And he chose me. He will always be my beautiful rescue. The hardest thing of losing someone you love is learning to live without them. You try to fill the gaps, sadness and the emptiness left in your heart when their gone. Maybe we will meet in another life. Maybe we will see each other again in another universe and by that time, everything will be fine. But for now, one thing will remain forever—his heart.