As you know well by now, I do a lot of reflection about my mom and my relationship with her. And one thing I keep coming back to — and one of the biggest blessings about my relationship with her — is how well she understood me. How well she understands me.

I often think about how special this is. To feel like someone gets you so effortlessly and without explanation, and in turn knows exactly what to do or say. It’s something I’ve only really come to understand recently and appreciate so much. And I also miss it so much with her.

Nowadays, especially when I’m feeling down, I long to speak to my mom because I know she would just get it.  She would understand my feelings and she would know how to respond in the way I need. While I can’t talk to her directly, fortunately I see her influence on Sanam, Nikhil, and my dad and I see reflections of her in the way they talk to me. And I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for getting to experience something so special.

As always, I’d like to share some examples of what I mean.

I went through a phase a few years ago in London of experiencing panic attacks. It was the first time they’d happened to me and I didn’t understand them. I saw my doctor, who ordered tests and wanted to make sure there wasn’t something else going on. I was scared and fortunately was able to go back to Pleasanton to get my mom and dad’s support.

During that visit back home, my mom slept in my bed with me every night. I didn’t ask her to — she just did it. And I really needed it; I remember waking up in the night and feeling breathless, which then made me anxious. But looking over and seeing her at my side gave me comfort.

This was one of those instances when my mom just implicitly understood me and what I needed, and it made me feel so comforted and reassured. She gave me just the support I needed, and when I went back to London, she continued to support me. Because of that, I got through that period and now it’s just a memory.

Another example is about something completely different. As most of you know, I was studying at UCLA and went to go study abroad at University of York in the UK for a six month period. For the first time in my life that I can remember, I felt such a strong sense of belonging there. I loved my friends, the school, the lifestyle. It just felt right in a way I can’t tangibly explain. Really, in the same way I’m talking about my relationship with my mom here. It was a feeling of belonging that I’d only really felt at one other point I can remember, during my final year of high school.

So when my study abroad ended that spring, I was distraught. I cried with one of my friends in our kitchen the night before I flew home and I cried to him again over the phone from the airport. And when I got home, I told my parents I wanted to go back to York after the summer and continue my studies there.

Naturally, they thought I was crazy. Even I wholly acknowledge the whole thing was completely crazy. But sometimes in life, you just feel that strongly.

That summer now feels like a blur, but I remember a few key standout items.

When I initially expressed that I wanted to go back to York, my parents — very reasonably — tried to reason with me and discuss the impracticalities of what I was asking for. Naturally, I didn’t want to hear this and reacted with hostility.

One of the things I recall was that my mom noticed how I stopped saying “Love you” back to her when we we’d be saying good night. I was very aware of this and was doing it deliberately because I wasn’t happy with how our discussions were going (how petty was I, right?).

I wanted my mom to notice me not saying “Love you.” I wasn’t trying to hurt her; I was trying to express that I was feeling unhappy, albeit in an immature way. She did get the message though and asked me about it, because she gets me and the way I (sometimes very indirectly) communicate.

It’s totally silly, but sometimes I do similar things now in communication when I’m trying to express discontent. Like, if I’m having an argument over text, I’ll punctuate the last sentence of my text with a period, so as to indicate firmness and irritation. Otherwise, I’ll only punctuate everything until the last sentence. (Yes, I’m aware of how ridiculous this sounds so judge away, but remember I’m a comms person at heart!)

When I do this, my desire is for the other person to notice and understand I’m communicating differently from normal. That said, I don’t think anyone would notice something as small as this (ahem — take note Shaan), but I would think my mom might!

Anyway, coming back from that total aside —

During that summer back home, my mom understood, both through my subtle messages and explicit communication, how much it meant to me to go back to York. She may not have agreed initially, but she certainly did try to understand. And so despite the impracticality of my request, we worked on a compromise and brought my dad along on the journey. I ultimately went back to York and also graduated from UCLA, and I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.

In retrospect, I very much appreciate my parents’ response because had it gone completely my way from the start, I would’ve abandoned UCLA altogether and limited my future prospects in the US, where York isn’t a well-known name. Instead, with understanding we reached a solution that gave me what I needed at the time — the sense of belonging that I value so much — as well as paved a strong path for my future.

I think it’s very easy to take for granted this feeling of being understood. I wasn’t aware of it nor did I appreciate it at the time. But with the perspective I have now, I feel like I’ve experienced something very special, and I will forever cherish it.