Sometimes I wish I could pretend to be like Aunt Aghdas. Aghdas joon was my great-aunt, the younger sister of my maternal grandmother. Like many of the older ladies of my grandmother's generation, Aghdas joon was a widow, and along with my grandmother and a few other female relatives belonged to our family's unofficial 'Widows Club'. Despite their age, these ladies had created the most fun and jovial group I remember from my childhood. As an adolescent, I loved hanging out with them at every opportunity because of their sense of humor, love of life, cheerfulness and strength. My grandmother was one of the most vivacious members of this group. Aunt Aghdas was the sentimental poet, my grandmother was the undeclared feminist, aunt Fakhri was the bold comedian (she looked and was as funny as Carol Burnett), and Ameh Jon Azize was the petite witty lady in the bunch! One could never have a boring moment around this ensemble!
Aghdas joon had three sons. The eldest left Iran to study in the US when I was very young. Hence, I never met him; however, I used to hear about him a lot. Apparently, once he left Iran, he never returned home and his mother did not see him for many many years until one year he invited her, and she jumped at the opportunity and rushed to reunite with her son in the US - their very last visit.
Sometimes I wish I could be like Aghdas joon by pretending that Shahdi had left home and gone to a faraway land to study. To a land that was not easily accessible and I could not visit her there. If I am not mistaken, Aghdas joon only saw her eldest son once in almost 30 years after his departure from Iran. I have no doubt she missed him terribly but she seemed to be handling the separation very well. If I could convince myself that Shahdi was alive and busy in a far corner of our giant planet, I think I would have been content and able to tolerate my longing for seeing her. I would have missed her as all parents miss their children when they become young adults and leave the nest. But, the main difference between their longing and mine is the hope and possibility of seeing their offspring someday. Unfortunately, such hopes are nonexistent for me. I am counting on the afterlife to grant me my wish. But, between now and then, remain years and years of living without Shahdi. Who knows how many long years!
If I could simply trick myself into believing that my child is living a productive life somewhere and is happy, I would be able to bear the long separation and the physical distance between us as Aghdas joon did. But, alas, my stubborn mind refuses all treachery and falsehood and cannot disregard the truth!
And, even if I could indeed trick my mind for a moment, my new friend, Death, would instantly remind me of my harsh and cold reality.
RIP my darling Shahdi..
48 weeks
Aghdas joon had three sons. The eldest left Iran to study in the US when I was very young. Hence, I never met him; however, I used to hear about him a lot. Apparently, once he left Iran, he never returned home and his mother did not see him for many many years until one year he invited her, and she jumped at the opportunity and rushed to reunite with her son in the US - their very last visit.
Sometimes I wish I could be like Aghdas joon by pretending that Shahdi had left home and gone to a faraway land to study. To a land that was not easily accessible and I could not visit her there. If I am not mistaken, Aghdas joon only saw her eldest son once in almost 30 years after his departure from Iran. I have no doubt she missed him terribly but she seemed to be handling the separation very well. If I could convince myself that Shahdi was alive and busy in a far corner of our giant planet, I think I would have been content and able to tolerate my longing for seeing her. I would have missed her as all parents miss their children when they become young adults and leave the nest. But, the main difference between their longing and mine is the hope and possibility of seeing their offspring someday. Unfortunately, such hopes are nonexistent for me. I am counting on the afterlife to grant me my wish. But, between now and then, remain years and years of living without Shahdi. Who knows how many long years!
If I could simply trick myself into believing that my child is living a productive life somewhere and is happy, I would be able to bear the long separation and the physical distance between us as Aghdas joon did. But, alas, my stubborn mind refuses all treachery and falsehood and cannot disregard the truth!
And, even if I could indeed trick my mind for a moment, my new friend, Death, would instantly remind me of my harsh and cold reality.
RIP my darling Shahdi..
48 weeks
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