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.

Wishing to forget

This year marks 10. It was the first time I had wished I would have forgotten the date. I almost succeeded.

I knew it was sometime the next few days. If I didn't know, which date precisely, I could get on with the day as usual.

But curiosity killed the cat. On the day that I hoped had passed, I checked the dates. It was smack on the date he died.

So much for forgetting.

I don't think I ever will. My conscience won't let me.

In a way, could that be the reason I am still single? Finding all the ways and excuses in sabotaging my own opportunity in finding a person to share my life with. Because I can't forget?

Too old to play the game, yet wishing a little bit of romance in my life.

Hmmmm......

Too much thinking. I'm not looking.. Nothing compares to him anyway. No point in comparing and contrasting.

I've also become a bitter old b!&@¥. The bossy boss. I can't even stand myself sometimes....

But I'm successful & good in what I do. I'm also moving up the ladder & doing well in the rat race. Who dares now?

Hiatus and Absence

Has it really been this long? The absence.... unnoticed. Last entry was July 2012.

I sit here, this evening, another quiet night as the children have both gone to bed. It is not uncommon, sitting late in the wee hours of the morning, on my own. I have accustomed to it. I've learned to enjoy it. The stillness no longer deafens me.

The absence, unnoticed.

"How long has it been?", they asked me at a recent friend gathering I had at my house. The first ever, to be honest.

"Coming December, it will be 10 years." I replied.

10 years..... my answer echoed back in my head.

10 years? Has it really been that long?

Never could I have ever imagined in my wildest dream of having survived without him, not to even mention a decade!

"You'll be ok" he comforted me.
I shook my head with disagreement.
"I won't" I whispered back to him. Then immediately regreted saying it, as I saw the sadness in his eyes.
"It isn't my choice to leave you, you know that".
I looked down on his hands while holding them.

He was so calm. Always the collected one.

"10 years? It seemed not that long ago." as we continued the social get-together. It was nice to have the mini reunion with our college friends the recent Eid.

I looked at every one of the faces that represents common friends of our past. We all studied together. We grew up together. Now, we've grown older, gone our separate ways, married with children. We look slightly different.

I closed my eyes as my living room filled with chatters and laughter. For a split second, I felt we were back in College, the familiar voices and the crazy laughs.

"Coffee?" he would ask me.

"Coffee?" I opened my eyes again.
"Yes please. Thank you" as my son offered to refresh my cup.

Another Dream

I had a dream with him in it last night.

I suppose it is that time of the year, coming close to Ramadhan, that I feel the "pinch" to be more painful. The "missing him" to be more evident. The "memories" being more surreal.

We were standing together. It was like at a corner of a building, as people were passing by us. People we knew, but I don't recall them now. Then suddenly, a lady, a familiar figure, his sister I think, started shouting at him and pointing her index finger towards him.

"You are no father! You are not a good husband either" I heard her shout while angrily she pointed her finger to him.

I turned around to face him, but could not see his face. I was standing too close to see his face. But I hugged him tight as I put my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest. He was a tall(er) man. I heard his heart beating and felt his chest move with his breathing. In the background, his sister continued to yell. But it did not matter, as hugging him was like the most comforting thing in this world!

Then I woke up.

Widow-to-Widow

As her 6 year old daughter, laid her tired & weary head on her lap, closing her eyes, she immediately fell into deep sleep. It's been a long evening for everyone. An even longer night as they wait for daylight for the burial. It was a sudden death, her husband collapsing at work and was pronounced dead on arrival to hospital. He was well earlier that morning.

Now, she is widowed. Her husband gone from this earth forever. He was only in his 40s. They have 5 children, the youngest only 6.

The pain I felt for her was far too familiar. The tears she cried felt wet on my cheeks. Her empty heart beating was echoing in my ears. Her loss made my knees weak. What the children were feeling, only Allah knows.

As I hugged her before we left her house, a widow to another, nothing needed to be said. She knew I understood.

As people started leaving, going back to their own normal lives, hers was changed forever. My soul shifted from present to past to present again that evening. It was an emotionally moving evening, a turmoil of memories as semi healed scars were scalded again with salt.

Today, just a mere 4 days after his passing, she was out and about doing what was needed to be done. They do say that Allah only gives these challenges to those that can take the challenge. She and the children have been given a special gift, that will lift them above the rest, Insya'Allah.

I gave her a wave and smiled at her boys as they were kicking the football around their front yard, as I drove by to get on with my day, my life. May Allah give her the strength too, as it was given to me.

Al-Fatihah to her husband.