Keeping it simple for you

He understood it was just a breather, but he was petrified whenever I moved out of his sight, even for a while. Miscommunication by some, had reached its peak when two of my besties were fighting fuming for and against, exchanging words that could wrench anyone's heart. I kept my calm because I knew those words were never meant to hurt. It was their concern fighting for me, their worry about his health speaking through their emotions. None of us could truly express the battle we were fighting within. There stood a couple, friends forever in all directions, who kept encouraging me, but my heart knew its due diligence. It was one Fourth of July. I still wonder how a single day could shake someone so profoundly. He spoke his worries aloud before them. He cried. He asked for genuine concern and support for his family. A man who always stood firm by his principles occasionally melted... did he sense something that I couldn't? Or was I simply unwilling to let it break me? We listened...

  An evening I never wish to relive. I stood my ground, unwavering in my decision, fearlessly insisting that he be taken to the farthest hospital if it meant he would receive the best possible care. They argued that I was going against what had been decided, but nothing could stop me from trying to give him every chance we had. The ambulance ride, with its blaring sirens, pierced through my heart. Little did I know that he wasn't simply taking a detour, he was slowly beginning his final journey. He cried like a child, struggling to compose himself, and I held him close, assuring him that I would never leave his side. He asked me not to move an inch away from his sight, and I promised I wouldn't. Who could have imagined that within just a few days, our conversations would live only in memories, and I would long for one more moment in his gaze. 

Last Father's Day, the children wrapped you in warmth, a blanket stitched together with photographs, memories, and all the love their little hearts could hold. This year, instead of a blanket, they planted a garden for you. Side by side, with muddy hands and full hearts, they prepared a place where something beautiful can continue to grow. I imagine you smiling as you watched them, proud of the love they carry and the way they honor you. I feel blessed to see the wonderful babies we have raised together. Touch wood, because I never want to take that blessing for granted. Yet, if I'm honest, there is also fear. Raising them with you felt like sharing both the joys and the burdens; walking this path without you feels far more daunting. I often wonder whether I can live up to the hopes and expectations we dreamed for them together. You live on in our hearts, in their laughter, in the values you left behind, and in the love that continues to guide us. But my love, this journey is n...

  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.