He won't let me sleep tonight

He won't let me sleep tonight.

It's that time of the year, 16th day of Syawal, 11 years ago, my life changed. So drastically, I was numbed. Anesthetized from the pain, the loss, the reality.

Time takes away that defense, in the hope that I've healed. I pretend to. Inside me crumbles, weakened by the strength I try to show. I succumbed this year to illness.

As I lay here now, recently discharged from hospital, tired, yet he won't let me sleep.

This year, the children sense him too. This evening, without realizing it, we sat down and looked through the photo albums. Something we haven't done in a long long time. Not that it was stated that the anniversary of his passing was exactly today. Nobody mentioned it.

"Do you remember Ayah?" My daughter asked his older brother. She had not even turned 4 yet when he passed away. Big brother had just turned 6.

"A little" he answered. I didn't dare look at them while they continued to talk, flipping through the photo album.

"Dad was tall" commented my son. "Why didn't I get the Tall Gene?" He complained.
I smiled. When I stood next to him many years ago, I barely reached the height of his armpit. My shoulders were his "arm rest" he used to say.

"Where did I get this forehead?" asked my daughter.
"My side" I replied. "Along with the short genes and flat nose" I added. The kids giggled.

This day comes twice for me each year. Once through the Islamic calendar, another with the Georgian. Both times, I try to forget. Never succeeded. Ever.

"You sleep too much" he used to complain. "Sleep sleep sleep".
"I enjoy it. It's a luxury I'd rather not miss out on" I told him.

It's 5.30 am now. He didn't let me sleep tonight.

Too good an imagination

Somebody mentioned that I have vision, and I can get people to believe in my ideas and create something from nothing. A skill I am thankful for, as it has helped me build the team & services & infrastructure.
However, sometimes this vision of creating a world of perfection can backfire. I sometimes believe all too much in my vision, it clouds reality. I cannot see that fine line and cross over unintentionally, in a world of an almost fantasy. Ignorance & naivety feeds it. It's probably why I am always smiling & happy, I suppose.
I hate it when reality strikes. I fall from such a height, it hurts.
However, I get up and dream again, imagining & visualizing what could be. I have to believe in it. That drives me, and keeps me going. Call it crazy. But guess what? That crazy thing keeps me sane.

My birthday month

It has been a little while since I've written.

I'm turning 42 soon. As I am thankful that God has given me my health and collecting wealth of experiences, knowledge and wisdom, I lay here thinking.

The gray hair no longer hides between the black, making their presence more prominent. They are here to stay and collectively trying to make a statement. The stripes are trendy, I say. So gray away!

The hips and tummy are prospering. Giving me shape. Not a problem.

Afternoon naps on Sunday no longer a luxury. It is now a necessity.

And staying up past midnight on a work night means a lot of people won't like me tomorrow.

The least of my problems.

What I am thinking about now is me. Kids are leaving the nest soon, and I have worked hard enough to provide for them. This Single income working mum has not done too bad. I have enough put aside for their education, and if needed, I have the resources to get more.

It's me now that I have to prepare. What will I do coming home to an empty house? Move back with my parents? Maybe...not.

I suppose when kids move out, it's almost like retiring. A job as a mummy done. The nurturing bit anyway. I hope they will still recruit this retiree for some contract work once in a while.