What one would not do in the name of love!

Taking advantage of the sunny skies this afternoon, the dogs and I went to Lincoln Memorial Park to visit the patch of dirt under which my priceless treasure, my beloved Shahdi, is buried. The sun was deceiving because in actuality it was a bitterly cold day, only 20 degrees Fahrenheit. However,on the way to Shahdi's resting place, my attention was caught by a man sitting on a folding lawn chair by a grave, dressed in a heavy coat with a thick blanket on his lap. His silhouette  reminded me of someone sitting on a beach looking at the horizon above the water, even though in reality he was in a snow-covered cemetery in sub-freezing temperature! Apparently, love and longing had made him oblivious to the harsh condition of the day and surrounding area. I wondered if he had lost a child like us, or maybe a beloved spouse, or sibling, or friend. What one would not do in the name of love!

Thankfully, Christmas is Over!

To state that my life changed drastically when I became a mother is an understatement. One area that changed for me was my sudden interest in autumn because of Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays and Christmas. The entire fall season was filled with non-stop happy events which occurred in sequence. My most favorite of all was Halloween when Shahdi and Arman would invite their friends and go out trick-or-treating as a group dressed in cute costumes.

Two Years

Grief is rarely fatal.  Grief simply lingers on, disguised and hidden.  Grief transforms one’s life into an unimaginable state of disbelief, suspense, and surrealism.  Grief opens the gates of one’s heart and conscience to the reality and finality of death.  Grief makes death familiar and within reach. Grief sheds death’s shroud of mystery and doom by turning it into a tangible human experience, albeit an exceedingly bitter one.

Unbelievably, it has been two long and agonizingly painful years since the death of our precious daughter.  I am still here, living and breathing without much effort, while Shahdi is slowly turning into dust in her white coffin. Grief has not managed to kill me but it has triumphantly wiped out most of my hopes and dreams for the future. Grief has taken the element of joy and delight out of most ordinary life experiences.

Soulless Cemetery

It is ironic that in the 21st century, even grief is unable to escape conformity.  From the moment we are born, we have to learn to conform to the rules and regulations bestowed on us by society, but these restrictions even follow us to the grave.  In this day and age, a cemetery appears to simply be a business entity where one's grief is tolerated as long as it conforms to the rules and regulations set by the cemetery.

Missing you..

The  crow's feet under my eyes, which have become more prominent since your departure, and the white hair appearing around my face are a daily reminder of how deeply I love and miss you, my darling loving pretty girl. There has not been a single day since you left that my eyes have been dry.  I continue to live, but in the shadow of your memory, your unattained  dreams, and your unfinished adventures. Hope you are in peace my love.

خاطرات

.دوست دارم ساعتها در گوشه‌ای نشسته و با خاطرات خود با شادی خلوت کنم

... کاش میشد با خاطرات به گذشته بازگشت و سرنوشت را از سر نوشت و تلخی‌ را به شیرینی‌ تبدیل کرد. کاشکی‌

Cousin to the Rescue..

Long before I had my own children, when I was ten, my youngest aunt gave birth to an adorable baby girl. I fell in love with Mariam from the moment I laid eyes on her at the hospital. I never loved another baby so intensely until I had my own babies. I remember I used to get upset with my mom if I learned she had gone to my aunt's house while I was at school because I was jealous of her getting to see Mariam without me. My love for Mariam grew over the years even after I left Iran when she was seven years old. On a few occasions, I did babysitting for her and her younger brother when their parents had to go to a party and their nanny had the night off. I remember  we used to dance and slide down the parquet floor to the Sound of Music, Sleeping Beauty, or some other famous piece of music, with Mariam and Mani following my lead while giggling and laughing at my moves!  Later on, in my last year in Iran when I was a senior in high-school, I used to take Mariam with me to movies and all my close friends adored my cute, polite and stylish little cousin.

دخترک زیبایی

دخترک زیبایی به نام شادی که در عنفوان جوانی و شکوفایی در چاه عمیق افسردگی ناپدید شد. شادی با غم؟!   اخر چرا؟؟

No More Comfort in Writing

​I no longer find comfort in writing because, even to myself, I am beginning to sound redundant, like a broken record.Sixteen months have passed since the death of my beloved daughter, but my grief, my pain, my sorrow, and my longing have not subsided. There has not yet come a day when I have not wept for my departed Shahdi. There is hardly a moment that I am not aware of her death. It is not to say that I don't enjoy any moment of peace during the course of the day. I do, but only when I immerse myself in a book by detaching myself completely from my life and huge loss, and focusing instead on the characters and events that the author is unraveling in the story. Although, even then, any references to a loss or death immediately takes me out of the fictional world and throws me back in the depths of my sorrow. Following the stories in a good book or movie has been the only way I can temporarily distract my mind from my pain.

Although visiting with friends and family is very helpful as well, but even in their company, I still am aware of Shahdi's absence. I know that they know how I feel and even if they don't mention Shahdi by name, the awareness of her death is floating in the back of everyone's mind. In such circumstances, I try to avoid dampening others' spirit by not mentioning Shahdi, and they in turn, avoid mentioning Shahdi in order to protect me, as if by not speaking about her, I will ever forget her.

So,the hard journey continues without any joy, hopes or dreams until one day it too will end.

ویرانی

ایا هرگزمی توان در ویرانی،

شور زندگی، دانه امید و نور شادی را باز یافت؟

ایا باید زیر خاکسترها جستجو کرد؟

یا باید دست تقدیر را پذیرفت،

و به ویرانی ها خو گرفت؟

The Final Marker

After months of deliberate procrastination, I finally built up enough courage today to call the cemetery to inquire about the process of selecting a tombstone for our beloved Shahdi.  When the lady heard Shahdi's name, she informed me that she knew her. When I asked her how, she answered by telling me that she had become familiar with her name due to the number of people she had directed to her graveside. She said Shahdi must have had a lot of friends. I confirmed her statement by saying that Shahdi was, and still is, loved by many.

Sin Mucha Alegría

​Lamentablemente, de los cincuenta tres años de vida que he completado hasta el momento, sólo dieciocho de ellos han sido totalmente 'feliz'. Cuento mis primeros diecisiete años de vida que crece en Irán como el mejor, seguido por el primer año de vida de mi hijo cuando me quedé en casa con él y completamente me sumergí en mi nuevo papel como madre y pasé cada minuto del día con mi dulce y perfecto hijo, sin ninguna distracción y un solo pensamiento negativo.

Life...a fraud?

Life sometimes feels like a fraud; a big lie; a huge betrayal.  We humans find ourselves superior to other species on this planet because of our intelligence and our ability to think, invent, build, conquer, etc. We fool ourselves by thinking that we are better than all the other beings who share this planet and its vast natural resources with us. We are proud of ourselves for being the masters of Earth; to have found ways to exploit animals and nature to our advantage and to continuously invent new ways of withstanding the forces of nature to survive its wrath with the least degree of casualty and damage. 

Another Dream..

After weeks and weeks of drought in not seeing Shahdi in any of my dreams (which I could remember when awake), it seems my luck has finally turned since last week because I saw her again in my dream last night. And, for the first time since her death, I actually was able to talk to her. The feeling was out of this world, magnificent, ecstatic!

A Joyful Dream

Last night I saw Shahdi in my dream, alive and well.  I was so excited to see her while thinking my dream had come true and I had finally woken up from my painful nightmare.  I showered her with kisses and hugs, holding on to her while my tears of joy were falling. I could not believe that she was truly there, safe and sound, in my arms. She told me she had not died but just gone away for a while.  Even in my dream, I struggled to believe it. I was thinking how it could be possible. I am the one who found her motionless body, I gave her CPR, I saw them taking her away, I saw her in her coffin for the last time before she was buried. How could I have experienced these events if she were alive, standing in front of me?

El dolor del resto de mi vida..

¿Cómo puedo tolerar este enorme dolor de mi alma por el resto de mi vida?

 No es fácil vivir sin ti mi corazón. Tú eras la luz de mis ojos, la alegría y la esperanza de mi vida. 

¿Por qué te fuiste temprano mi amor?

Miss you my love...

Shahdi Joon,

I miss you. Sometimes to the point of madness, such that I just want to rip my heart out of my chest.  I miss you every day, every hour, and every second. My life has no meaning without your presence. Memories can never replace you, and I find it an affront when I hear people say: 'at least you have the memories!’  How can the memories help me fill the gap in my life? How can they fill the need to see you, to see your beautiful perfect smile, and to hear your voice?  

Thank You Sweetheart

Even though we are in the dark depths of everlasting torment and will be for the rest of our lives, but I would like to thank you Shahdi joon, for having allowed us to experience a few years of sheer happiness in your company. 

What I have learned in the past year - Part 3

I used to think that non-terminally-ill individuals, who died of suicide, must have been very selfish because they ignored the consequences of their actions on their loved ones: parents, children, siblings, grandparents, and the rest of their extended family and friends. I also thought of them as cowards for choosing death over confronting the challenges in their lives and trying to overcome them. 

No More Hopes or Dreams

Remember the island I wrote about where the bereaved parents reside?   And its neighborhood with permanent cloudy sky and intermittent rainfall? I believe I am currently there. The non-stop storms have settled down, although jolts of lightening still occur every day at random times. One never knows when to expect it, because it can be triggered by anything: a smell, a memory, a sound, a tune, a picture, etc.  The tears still flow every day but not at the ferocity of the past, and rarely in public any more. Now, the floodgate of tears is mainly opened only in total solitude, at home or in my car, where the cries of pain and sorrow cannot be heard by anyone, where my voice fluctuates in intensity as my eyes fall on Shahdi's pictures and her artwork, or as my mind imagines her in different stages of growing up around our home. 

No More Suicides Please....

Today I heard the horrific news of the loss of another young soul to suicide. I was deeply saddened even though I did not know this young lady.  Within seconds of hearing the news, the events of last year were revisited in my mind and my heart was squeezed tight with overwhelming sorrow. The young lady who took her own life was not a friend of Shahdi but they shared many mutual friends. When I learned she had left an infant and a toddler behind, my immediate thought went to the two, now motherless, innocent children. Their chances to leading a happy, normal, and fulfilling life were compromised greatly by their mother’s devastating action. A mother, who would contemplate suicide and finally execute it successfully, was obviously not of the right mind and must have suffered from mental illness, probably depression.

The loss of this young mother reinforced my strong belief in the inadequacy of the available medical treatments for mental illness. Depression is killing the young and not much is being done about it. There must be a lot more research on the human brain and how to prevent mental illness in children and adults before it is too late.