Nowruz 2016

Tonight we celebrated Nowruz at the exact same location where we had celebrated Nowruz for over ten years while our kids were growing up. I had not been to that ballroom in several years and nothing felt the same. I knew everything about the place, how the escalators led down to the big hall in front of the ballroom where Arman, Shahdi and their childhood friends had spent most of the evenings running around and playing while my friends and I were dancing on the dance floor to Persian music.

Final Marker

Visiting Shahdi this afternoon, I was surprised to see her partially installed tombstone. I was not aware that it was ready and did not expect it to be installed until spring. The cemetery worker was still working on it when I left the site in tears after a few minutes.

I looked long at the dusty tombstone with Shahdi's birth and death dates next to each other. Even after over two years, I still found it so hard to believe that I, a mother, had had the grand misfortune of witnessing the expiration date of my child displayed on a piece of black stone in a cemetery, with her name enclosed in golden roses, marking her permanent location on Earth for eternity. There will be no more travels, no more beaches, no more adventures and no more laughter for our Shahdi. She is at her final destination with her arrival date now stamped on her tombstone.

What can I say?? I let my tears express the tormented feelings which my tongue is incapable of articulating and my fingers are unable to type....

RIP our Shahdi - our joy, our life, our love...

A fate worst than mine..

​It is hard to find a parent in worst emotional circumstances than ours; but an article in the news today reminded me of the unthinkable: to lose your child to suicide AFTER he had taken many innocent lives before taking his own.

Living With Suicide

Undoubtedly in the normal cycle of life on Earth, as we know it, children are not to die before their parents. However, the laws of nature are not always followed and many a time the parents are left behind to mourn the death of their offspring. As imagined, such experience is the darkest for a human. The loss of a child is thousands of times more painful that giving birth to a baby. Why? Because it is an excruciating pain which never ends and continues for the remainder of one's life; however many days, months, or years left of it.

Marching Forward To Where?!

When one is young, one is encouraged to aim high, have seemingly unattainable dreams, and to march forward to reach them. However, when one is middle-aged, one no longer hears this advice, unless a colossal tragedy befalls one, as in my case.

Afraid of Forgetting

I AM AFRAID! I am afraid my dear Shahdi that a day will come when I won't think of you when I open my eyes in the morning. I am afraid a day will come when I am accustomed to your absence in your childhood house. I am afraid a night will come when I stop saying goodnight and asking for your forgiveness before succumbing to sleep. 

Tears are not a sign of weakness..

Why is it quite acceptable, and even expected, to cry of joy when a child is born, but tears of sadness for a deceased child are not tolerated long after the funeral? Why is it alright for parents to display tears of joy at every happy event related to their child but are frowned upon or pitied when they become tearful at remembrances of their deceased child? Why the double standard?

Tears set us apart from other creatures on this planet because generally they provide a window into our souls. Tears are the body’s mechanism in dealing with many raw emotions which cannot be as easily expressed by speech or actions.  Tears are the raw extract of one’s soul at rare times when the weight of emotions becomes insurmountable to bear. At such times, the only outlet available to humans in handling their emotions is through tears.  Tears are not a sign of weakness but a sign of the beauty of the human soul which spills out occasionally in the form of beautiful droplets of translucent liquid. Tears are magical and ought to be appreciated, not pitied or forbidden.

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.