Keeping it simple for you

  I truly don’t know whether I should even be writing this, but the very thought of it still scares me and shakes my confidence. It’s easy to say that I am capable of raising both of them and that I’ll be able to guide them toward success. But what if I fail? What if I’m not successful enough to help them achieve their dreams? What if I make the wrong decisions for them? There are still so many things I don’t know. No matter how much I try to learn, there’s always something else I get stuck on. Rules, legal matters, banking, insurance, education, finances; everything feels overwhelming at times. I feel like I have to start from scratch every single day. I learn one thing, only to find myself struggling with something else. It feels endless. Does everyone go through this, or am I the only one finding it so difficult? xoxo boy, I’m truly scared. :( I know you’ve told me so many times not to overthink, but how can I not think about concerns like these? I can’t ask you to make a promis...

As soon as the epidural kicked in,  my nervousness turned into chaos.  “Why have you cut my leg?” I screamed. I yelled at Grandma, not realizing it was just the sedative making the procedure easier. I must have sounded ridiculous to her. She laughed and said, “There is something called trust!”  With that belief, she went ahead with the surgery, and within moments, the womb was empty. Then, with jittery, twinkling eyes, there came a voice that echoed through me, making me realize that I was a mother.  Our journey had started nine months earlier, but the warmth you brought into my lap and my arms filled me with everything I could ever ask for. Capturing every moment and nurturing each other, we grew, we bonded, we chatted, and we became friends.  You became my partner in late-night conversations, midnight munching, games, and in sharing everything; even through silence when words weren't needed.  T he most annoying moments were when you would poke my left arm...

When we packed our luggage, you asked me how long I intended to stay abroad. I said his project was for six months. You mocked me and said, “There’s no U-turn for you.” I laughed and replied, “We’ll see, Mousa.” You blessed me with immense courage to begin my life in an alien world. You asked me to promise that we would take care of each other and blessed us as we stepped out. Every time we met afterward, you reminded me of that conversation and asked, “What happened to the detour?” I would smile and say, “Your nephew’s call, I have to settle with.” The last time I was there, I was without him. We simply convinced ourselves that life takes its own course. And now, you have left me here alone, holding on to memories, while you have moved to another alien world with him. Take care of him, Mousa. I will catch up with you both someday.  I still have work to finish. Rest in peace, Mousa. Om Shanti.

 It was a moment of melting down... I know how emotional I can be when it comes to you, but standing in front of your framed wall, I found myself confined to all our beautiful moments of dressing up or down for occasions. I followed the same routine, got dressed up for all the occasions as I would or rather, as you would want me to but the warmth... the warmth of your attention to detail, the warmth of your teasing, the warmth of your cuddling and asking for more, the warmth of my willingness, the warmth of our lovemaking, everything was running fresh through my mind, but only as memories. Love, how can I build myself again? I was in the crowd, laughing and sharing moments of joy, adding my presence as though everything were as it should be, but the joy... the joy of your leg-pulling, the joy of "It's her life..." turning into the possessiveness of "She's just mine," the joy of your being around, the joy of our laughter and exchanged glances, Love, how can I...

When I see the event posts, or gather the courage to step up and break a leg, a shiver rises from somewhere deep within.... a place where memories still breathe. My heart sinks, and emotions spill quietly through the cracks. The chaos of hospital corridors returns, echoing through silent rooms. Conversations bounce back from distant walls, voices layered upon voices, urgent, hopeful, fearful. It was my first time standing amidst such noise, trying to be the pillar my family needed, while everything inside me trembled. Fear had no place on my lips, though it lived in every heartbeat. I spoke firmly, pleading for help, searching for one more door, one more answer, one more chance to make things better. And you: trying to convince me that I had done all I could, that as your Savitri, I had fought enough. But my heart refused to believe it. The nurses, The doctors, The endless emergencies, The sleepless hours spent asking what else could I have done? What did I miss? Could love alone have ...

When our souls connected and we bonded, you said “I love you” in the ways you cared: a little pampering, an extra hug; a snug place inside your tee, even when I bugged. Stains of vermilion, unavoidable; love notes written on skin instead of paper. Blossoms of affection in every caress, each movement touched by a gentle breeze. Our love was nurtured through phone calls as we grew closer despite the distance. You followed your heart, setting aside discomfort because that was how you cared, and our love knew no boundaries. We cuddled through a journey filled with joy, jokes, and fresh starts whenever differences arose. Then we became parents: first to someone, then to some-two. And once again, we grew. Bound by responsibilities, yet never forgetting to detour into those old days when saying “I love you” was unnecessary because we already knew how deeply we belonged to one another. You called me the craziest person in your life, and I insisted that you simply deal with it :) We gracefully ...