Tomorrow, I will be embarking on a multi-week voyage
across the ocean, where I would meet up with one of my children. The other one
will not accompany me in person but only in spirit. She would be flying next to
my plane and would be with me every second of every day. I so wish I would have
been able to hold the hand of each of my children on this trip as we were
enjoying the activities of an average tourist on vacation. I wish I could hear
the echo of Shahdi’s combat boots on the cobble-stone streets, hear the noise
of her hair-dryer in the mornings, and see the admiring stares of passersby on her
beautiful face while walking down the streets, as I had observed it so many
times in the past.
Nothing is as colorful as before, not even the rainbow;
even the world’s seven wonders are not interesting anymore. As a bereaved
mother, I now view the world and its inhabitants through a different lens.
Everything has become more obscure and dull. Nevertheless, life must be lived,
work must be done, trips must be taken, sight-seeing must be accomplished, and time
and money must be spent with the hope of a small degree of distraction from the
non-ceasing grief and longing for my Shahdi. Who am I kidding though?! Even if I travel to the end of the world, my
broken heart will not mend and will continue to hurt for the loss of Shahdi.
Should I lose my life in an accident close to
or far from home, I want everybody to be happy for me, instead of being sad. Hopefully,
on a glorious day, I will be floating happily and contently in the sky, high
above the clouds, alongside my Shahdi, both wearing our white peasant dresses
with flowers in our hair and red lipstick on our lips, looking for a nice sidewalk
café where we could have some cappuccino and Napoleons! What a lovely picture indeed! I hope someday
this image becomes a reality for me.
Until later Shahdi joon.
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