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.