The Holidays

There is so much to write yet it is hard to know where to begin. Well, I made it through my first Christmas without Hamid here. For some reason, the 24th was actually the hardest day. It may have been the anticipation of the Christmas Eve service, setting out gifts, and then the next day. I felt a heavy weight on me all day. I think of Hamid all of the time from when I wake up until I go to sleep, but this day it was the aching and sense of emptiness that I had to get through.

And I did. I got through it. Actually, church was quite amusing with the band that had singers that make my mom look like a star! And then Ariyana went up to the alter and stuck some of the fake grapes in her mouth so I had to run up and get her. Now, that I think about it, when I was at church was the first time that day that I actually felt better. Funny how that works.

It was so different that morning being there opening gifts with the kids. I sat there thinking, there isn't a gift under the tree for me from Hamid. I know it's not about the gifts - I know that more than ever now, but it was that harsh reality that there will never be one again. Once again, I have the guilt battle. It is a reminder of how we take things for granted when we are with our with our loved one. I think back over our Christmas' together, the fun, the gifts. Some people don't ever have that. The other day as I went through the checkout at the grocery store I really looked at the older woman who was scanning my groceries. She is always so friendly. I noticed that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I wonder if she was ever married? Is she a widow like me? Is she lonely? Is she happy? As I pushed my cart out, even with a heavy heart I thanked God that I was going home to my family.

Last night I started putting Hamid's things together for Afshin's Faith Chest. I read the tributes from Chris, Parham, and Mohammad. They were beautiful. As I read each one, I cried knowing the great love that I lost. Yet, I was also proud and felt a sense of hope wash over me. I know that Ariyana and Afshin will be deeply touched by their words and I am so thankful that Hamid followed me out of that hospital 13 years ago and that he chose me to walk beside him. I know he is watching over us and that "knowing" gives me strength...but it is still hard. The New Year is next. Last year, I remember lying across from Hamid in his hospital room. I cried knowing that the incoming year was going to bring me joy and sorrow with the birth of our son and the death of my husband. What will this year bring? I don't know, but what ever it is, I know that God will be there and will guide me and carry me when I need Him.

5 Months

It is 5 months today that Hamid passed. It isn't any easier. Each day is hard and I wish I could wake up and he would be here beside me pulling me close. I try to hang on to the beautiful gifts that I have been given to know that he is alright and that we are still connected, but the pain of him not being here physically is always there.

I have been wanting to write for several days now as it was a year ago on the 6th that Hamid had his surgery, but with me and the kids being sick I find that I am too tired by the time everyone is settled. So, today as I drove to work I was thinking about this and prayed that God would continue to give me strength and send me something to lift me up and help me to get through the day without a heavy heart. It was just 1 1/2 hrs later when I was in a meeting with Liane and Liz (a current student). I thought we were meeting because she was struggling in a class, but then suddenly she gave me a large gift wrapped with a bright red bow. I tore the paper and there we were, me and Hamid smiling brightly - you could almost feel the energy coming from the canvas. It was beautiful. I smiled as I remembered that night. Hamid had cooked a huge Persian dinner for our friends from Cincinnati and had even specially prepared a fish that their nephew had caught. It was a great night full of love, laughter, good food, and friendship. It was just what I had prayed for.

So, I will continue praying and remembering all of the great times we had together.

Thanksgiving Day - Celebrating Hamid

I was excited to celebrate Hamid on Thanksgiving Day. I looked forward to it knowing that me, Ariyana and Afshin were making special time for his memories, his life, his love. After breakfast, Ariyana and I sat down and wrote a note to Hamid. I wrote him a brief message and then asked Ariyana what she wanted me to write to Baba, "I love you so much" was her reply. I added that to the note and then she drew on it. Mom picked up a purple balloon for us - Ariyana told us that purple was her favorite color so I knew that would be best for Hamid.

Prudence and Armoni were visiting so they joined us. I thought we would go to the beach - I have to admit I was a little worried about the kids getting all sandy and then driving in the car and needing a bath at Kristin's house. Well, as it goes, I wasn't quite sure of the directions and wanted to go to a beach that would be somewhat on the way. We ended up in the Long Beach Harbor. It was perfect and so beautiful. We walked along the water with the kids and decided to let Hamid's balloon go up by the lighthouse that overlooked the harbor. We sat together and Ariyana opened with a prayer, "God is good, God is great, let us thank him for our food..." It warmed my heart and I bet there was laughter in the heavens. I prayed for us and that Hamid would feel our love and know that we were alright and that we know he is ok, too. I told him that as we released the balloon, we released any worries...It was hard to pray and find the words though I had been thinking about it so much. Thanksfully, Prudence stepped in and prayed for all of us - it was beautiful. Of course, the funny part is that by this time, Ariyana was ready to move on and was dancing away! We then let the balloon go....well, it just went down the hill and scared some seagulls because we left the clip on! so there we were, all running after it! So on the second try we were successful and watched it go up into the heavens until it disappeared.

It was about 9pm when we were home and the kids were settled. Mom asked me how my day had been, how I really felt...as I started to answer her, I saw something outside of the picture window. It was a bouquet of balloons perfectly centered in the window. There were 4 - two orange, one yellow, and one blue. I knew it was Hamid telling me that he heard our message and that he loves us and is alright. I smiled and said to myself, "I love you and will see you at the tree."

Here is a link to the movie I put together of our celebration.

-heather

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VLtPmz5oC4

Signs

Each night when we go to bed Ariyana and I say our prayers. At the end I say, “God Bless…” and then I let her fill it in. We pray for our friends and family and I always try to say, “and God Bless, Baba. Amen.” As I say my own prayers often drifting to sleep, I add on that God bless Hamid and let him know that we love him and that we miss him, but that we are alright. I don’t know why but I feel that I need to reassure him that we are ok. It was hard for him to leave us – he wanted to provide better for us and I tried to assure him that we would be just fine, but I know it weighed on his heart.

A close friend told me that we all have the potential to experience connections with our loved ones who have passed on. So I have tried to open my mind and heart to the world around me. I try to listen and watch more for signs and they have come. A few weeks ago I was in Ariyana’s room playing with both kids as we got ready for bed. We were laughing and suddenly I had this urge to look up at Ariyana’s butterflies hanging on the ceiling. Both were spinning round and round. Maybe it was from Ariyana’s movement in the room…maybe not. All I know is that I had that urge to look up amidst our laughter and I felt comforted, like Hamid was able to somehow sense our childish joy and was showing that he was there with us. It happened a second time and I felt that same comfort and assurance but there have been other times when I have looked up, searching and hoping to “see” him, but the butterflies just hung there. When I am in Afshin’s room rocking him to sleep I look at Hamid’s blanket hanging on the wall and see his smile. Sitting there, I send him positive thoughts and energy – I tell him of our love and the heartache I have without him, but then I tell him that we are ok and that we love him so very much.

At night as I say my prayers I also tell Hamid that he can visit me in my dreams. Finally, he did on Sunday night. I saw him in a room, standing as he searched through papers. His back was to me and he never turned around. I asked him what he was looking for but he didn’t respond. I then told him that we didn’t lose anything, we have everything and it is ok. It is alright. I remember no longer seeing him, but feeling comfort again. I woke up that morning and smiled knowing that Hamid had visited me. I don’t know what the dream meant…what was he looking for? I don’t know, but I do know that the feelings I had were peaceful.

I believe Hamid is communicating with me and that he is alright. Though I miss him with all of my being, I know that he is with God and that he can sense me and is waiting for me.

Anticipating

It has been a while since I have written though I have thought of writing often. This month has been hard and full of anxiety and anticipation. It was last year at this time when Hamid got worse, when our hopes were dashed. It was last year at this time when Hamid was at LLMC and finally came home on the weekend on TPN. An exact year ago today, I called Dr. Barone in San Diego and begged him to see us.

This will be our first Thanksgiving without Hamid here. I have wondered and cried, "how do I do this without him? How can I sit at Thanksgiving dinner - a time for family and loved ones to be together, without him? How can I make it through the day without hearing him crack a joke and see which wine of Jeff's he can get in to? How can we not have him there asking to play, 'I'll buy that?" Part of me just wants to run from that day but I know I will get through it. I will be sad, but I will also feel the love of my family around me giving me strength to keep going. And of course, Ariyana & Afshin will bring me joy.

Recenlty, a friend asked me to reflect on what I was going to do for myself on Thanksgiving to help me get through the day and to give myself space to feel whatever the day brings. I decided to take the kids to the ocean - I always feel connected to God there and to Hamid. Somehow, being there is freeing and my heart, though it longs for Hamid, it is filled with a peace. My sister in law then shared an idea of getting a balloon and putting kisses for Hamid on it and releasing it up to the heavens for him. I felt such a lift in my heart as I thought about us doing that. So, on Thursday we are going to go the beach where we will begin our annual tradition of honoring Hamid and giving thanks for our time with him. I will post pictures and share about it later this week. I feel good having a way to connect with Hamid this Thanksgiving. I know it will still be a hard day, but I also know that somehow and someway, he will feel our love and I know that I will feel him, too.

A Great Love

We did have a great love. Over thirteen years we grew together through laughter, tears, challenges, and an unstopping love. As I type this I think of all those years that we were so far apart and yet somehow, something just kept us together.

On Saturday the VNA Hospice of Southern California held their annual celebration of life. It was beautiful. I really enjoyed seeing the nurses and staff who worked with us. Linda and Lisa were there. Though I had only met Lisa during Hamid's last 2 days, I feel so close to her. I think God had a hand in bringing her to us for Hamid's passing. As she watched over us that Wednesday morning she recognized Hamid's Purple Heart Award from Sharp Memorial - she had worked there years earlier and knew many of the nurses who had taken care of us those 4 months. I don't know if the nurses and staff have it, but I feel this deep connection to them....they saw our life at its rawest, most intimate times. I have the same feelings about the nurses, and of course Hamid's two doctors from Sharp (Dr Barone and Julie). They come into your lives and your heart is there - breaking, hoping, aching, loving...all at once, and they are there.

Me, mom, Ariyana and Afshin walked to the front of the church to place a picture of Hamid on the alter along with a single rose from our garden, which was added to the flowers from other families. I remember, there was a man who was taking the pictures and setting them out for the families. When he asked to take Hamid's picture, for a few moments I didn't know what to say. I didn't want anyone else to touch his picture - it was mine and I wanted to go and put Hamid there among the others myself. Hamid looked so handsome in that picture. It was a picture from our wedding - he was walking, holding his suit jacket over his shoulder and showing that beautiful smile of his. Yes, that smile that always gave me butterflys.

We went back to our seats. As mom and I kept the kids busy, I realized that we were the only ones there with children. I didn't see any other people my age. No young children. It was the stark reminder that it is not supposed to be like this; Hamid was too young, too full of life to be taken so early.

Dr. Quijada, Hamid's hospice doctor, was one of the speakers. He saw us as we walked to the front of the church and he waved to me. It felt like he was encouraging me. When he spoke, he said that he wanted to talk about the love that he had witnessed with two couples this year. One couple who had been married for 52 years, the other couple for 3 and who had 2 young children. Out of the hundreds of people who were being celebrated this year, he remembered Hamid and the love that we had shared. I felt so honored. He talked about the different types of love - oh, it was beautiful - he shared of our love and the trips we took while on hospice. And then Dr. Quijada talked about our love through his eyes as he watched Hamid tell me that he was going to stop his IV nutrition. He saw our tears and shared in a moment that few people are part of - a husband and wife's love, committment, pain, and acceptance. He called that love a flame - one that even death can not put out.

That was supposed to be my life

Last weekend my friends invited me and the kids out to Palm Desert to their timeshare. We had a great time playing with the kids and catching up on life. Tears and laughter. On Sunday Ben arrived. Hearing him speak Farsi to Aria, Farangis, and Ariyana, teared at my heart. I could hear Hamid saying those things to Ariyana and Afshin. And they were all so excited to see him. As I watched Ben with the kids I ached inside knowing that Ariyana and Afshin will never have that time with their father. We were supposed to be that happy family.

Later that day we went to the pool. As I watched Ariyana play I looked around seeing all the happy families laughing, playing, lying in the sun. Couples sharing drinks and cooling off in the pool. Mothers and fathers playing with their children. I wanted to yell to them, that this was supposed to be my life, too. Hamid was supposed to be there with me drinking a beer and enjoying the 80s music playing in the background. He was supposed to be the one to take Ariyana down the slide. Family vacations, love...That was supposed to be our life.

It was that realization of being a single parent and that the things Hamid and I had dreamed of and talked about doing together as a family would now be that, a dream. I hate that I won't be able to provide for them the way we had thought. It won't be the life we had thought. But even as I type this I feel guilty all the same. I have so much to be thankful for; so many blessings in my life. I know that we are going to be ok and that we are going to have a good life...it will just be different than the one Hamid and I had imagined.

He knows

He knows.

I often wonder if Hamid can sense how I am doing. I think about that often and wonder if there is a way that he senses if I am struggling andhurting. Just tonight I really tried to send out good energy and thoughts to himso that he would know that I am ok. Even though I cry as I type this I just hopethat maybe somehow he sensed it.

"I have no doubt that Hamid can sense how you feel. His death didn't shatter your connection. Hardly. He knows your heart. You and Hamid have touched something so deep that mere death cannot separate the intertwining of your spirits. I suspect that at times you'll even feel him and know his heart. Perhaps thru dreams, perhaps thru unexplainable events, perhaps thru the feeling of presence in a mystical way. Perhaps you already have." He knows....yes, Chris was right, he really does know and our connection lives on through all time and space.

It is actually the end of November and I realized that I had never finished this post - I had only started the above information and saved it as a draft. Hamid does know. He has sent me signs. For those of you who feel alone without your loved one...yes, it is lonely, it is hard to live without our soulmate, but there are signs for us, signs to help us stay strong, and most importantly to reassure us and let us have peace.

It just hits you

It just hits you. It is sudden and painful.

Last week my dad, my wonderful dad, bought Ariyana a wooden playhouse. She loves it and mom and dad spent so much time getting it just right for her. We were having dinner and dad leaned over and asked her how she liked her playhouse. She said that she loved it and then he asked her, "Do you know why I got it for you?....Because I love you." At those words and watching them both I struggled to keep from crying. That was supposed to be Hamid, her Baba there, telling her that and building her house. Hamid loved to build things and this would have meant so much to him. I turned away and fed Afshin. That hollow feeling is always there.

It has been on my mind that it will be 3 months on Thursday, but I've been ok. Over the weekend, Ariyana, out of the blue asked, "What happened to Baba?" I turned and looked at her not sure how to respond and trying to figure out what she was really asking. I told her that he went to Heaven. She nodded and said, "Baba got sick." My heart ripped. With tears filling my eyes I told her "Yes, Baba got sick, he had cancer. But now he is strong and healthy with God."

Today I was leaving work late - I was tired but again, ok. I checked my messages and then suddenly I heard Hamid's voice, "Hi, baby. Everything went well today. I feel ok - a little pain...Call me." Suddenly, it hit me. He will never call me again. He isn't going to walk through that door, tell me those crazy jokes, or call my name. I listen to this message at least once a week and it usually is a bittersweet moment, but today there seemed to be nothing sweet. Just a longing and deep sorrow. I can't even describe how it feels. When I think of Ariyana and Afshin not having Hamid in their lives it tears at my heart. I know we will all be ok but today it just hit me again today. I miss him so much.

As I showered tonight I thought how if it wasn't for Ariyana and Afshin I would probably just crawl into my bed and not come out...call into work...just stay home and be...but I can't. They need me and I need them. Tomorrow is a different day. I will see what it brings.

Innocent Faith

The innocent faith of a child is heart wrenching and inspirational all at once. There she was holding her phone against her ear and her sweet voice rang out, "Hi, Baba, how are you? I love you. Say hi to God." Then a few moments later after she had me talk to Baba, she said, "I love you. Watch over us. Good bye." My heart swelled and my eyes filled with tears. The innocent faith of a child. The purity of her trust, that her Baba is safe and strong in Heaven with God. I cried that day, that moment, but I was also so proud of Ariyana's love. In her own way she was expressing that she missed Hamid and wanted to talk with him, yet she seemed to know he was ok. I know Hamid somehow felt this surge of love. It is a memory that I will hang on to and find strength in as I try to uphold the simple faith of a child.

I Miss You

Yesterday, Ariyana woke up from her nap in my bed and came over to me with a book in her hand saying, "What's that, Maman?" I looked at the book, it was I miss you, a first look at death. I looked at her and I knew she wanted me to read it to her as she kept pointing to the sad puppy lying next to slippers at the foot of an empty chair. So we climbed into bed and I began to read.

Death is a natural part of this life that we know here. As I read the words the tears came. It talked about life going on...it does, but it is different and so am I. As my voice softened, Ariyiana turned to look at me and ask what was wrong. I told her that I miss Baba so much it makes me sad. She nodded and then we kept reading. It hurts to know that there will be a day when she will understand the meaning in this book and that she and Afshin will grieve their father. I know he is in a better place but he was supposed to have more time with us.

I am putting together videos that we took this past year. As I played one, there was Hamid playing his electric guitar for Ariyana who was toddling around his office back and forth from the printer to his speakers. I sat there mesmerized by the music, knowing that Hamid was so in love with life at that time. His two beautifuls, as he always said, right there with him while he played away on his guitar. I think it was Parham who said that there is a little bit of Hamid's soul in those guitars. It is so true.

Hamid I carry you in my heart. You will always be there. After Ariyana and I finished reading the book, I told her that you were in Heaven but that we always keep your memories here in our hearts. Yes, Hamid, you will always be there. I miss you and just wish that life could have been different for us. I know we will be together again but until then I will carry you here in my heart.

Messages

Today it has been two months yet it feels like an eternity. I found myself anticipating this day and watching the clock...waiting for 11:30 to come. It came and then it passed. I miss him, but I know and believe with all of my heart that he is ok and that he is strong, healthy, and has that smile that always made my heart race. So, tonight I want to talk about connections and messages.

Are there subtle connections between us in this space as we know it, and with the greater universe? Maybe it is in the briefest moment when you suddenly look at the sky and its beauty overwhelms you and you are filled with peace. Or maybe it is more obvious like when we were loading the car for the beach on Labor Day weekend. Everything was packed, Ariyana and Afshin were in, but suddenly, I thought of Hamid's boogy board and brought it along. It was invigorating to be on his board in the ocean, me a 30 something among the 12 year olds. I knew Hamid was watching, smiling, and probably even laughing. Though the pain of missing him was there, I felt a peace settle inside of me.

Are these the messages from our loved ones? Is it through these mysterious connections, connections that we are not even consciously aware of, that we are able to sense messages from our loved ones? Does God know that we need that assurance once in a while to give us strength to go on? Well, here is a big one that I have to share. Mindy is going to join in with comments since this is really her story...

Mindy's friend came to visit with her two teenagers who happened to bring along a ouijaboard. Hoping to scare the kids they lit candles in the treehouse in the woods and then they all climbed up to play. Apparently, they were talking with an old man and asking silly questions. Mindy and Meghan were sitting back watching when they asked the old man if he was speaking for himself to which he replied N O. They asked him who he was speaking for...it spelled out H A M. Mindy looked at Meghan. They asked if he had a message. Y E S. Who is the message for? It spelled H E. What is the message? T R E E. Mindy said the game is over, everyone inside. I started shaking when she told me and tears filled my eyes. Was Hamid really trying to tell me that he was ok and that he is there waiting for me? Meeting at the tree was so important - when he agreed to meet me there I knew that he believed in God. I called Mindy again last night to have her tell me the story again and then I asked her when this happened - she said, "awhile ago, it was August 9th." I couldn't believe it and as she said it she then realized the importance of that day.

I don't believe in ouija boards but maybe the timing was right and this was Hamid's way to let me know that he is ok. I can't tell you how much comfort I have in knowing that Hamid is there at the tree waiting for me. I know life isn't going to be easy without him, but this gives me a boost of strength that I really need. Hamid, if you can sense my love, know that I am alright, I love you, I miss you, I am different without you with me, but we are all ok. We will meet you at the tree.

He's not coming back

I came home tonight and played with the kids while mom fixed dinner. As we set the table, I went over and poured myself a glass of wine. A twinge of pain shot through me as I thought of Hamid. He's not here.

It was a nice evening. After I got Ariyana settled I came downstairs to give Afshin his bottle and Dad came home. He was happy to see Afshin which made me smile but then brought the bittersweet thought that Afshin doesn't have a father that will come home and scoop him up and look into those deep smiling blue eyes. Then Dad went over and kissed mom...Hamid always kissed me when he came through the door - it was the first thing no matter what. Even after Ariyana was born he always kissed me before running off after her. I won't feel that kiss ever again...only in my dreams. It struck me at that moment that Hamid was not going to come back. He is not going to walk through that door with his briefcase and cell phone. He is not going to sit down and drink that glass of wine with me. He is not going to be beside me when I go to sleep.

I was talking to some friends yesterday and we talked about how you go on and you are "ok." but everything is different. I go to work and I love my job and the students, I come home to my parents and Ariyana and Afshin who just brighten my day with their light. I laugh. I smile. But there are so many times that inside I am crying...a heaviness weighs on my heart. There just aren't words to describe how much I miss him. It's so much more than that. Then, last night I heard Eli sing on America's Got Talent. Hamid and I always watched that show and we both saw Eli sing during the try outs a few months ago. As he sang the words, I thought - some of those words speak to me..."And I'm dying inside And nobody knows it but me. Like a clown I put on a show. The pain is real even if nobody knows And I'm crying inside And nobody knows it but me. The nights are lonely, the days are so sad And I just keep thinkin' about The love that we had, And I'm missin' you And nobody knows it but me. I carry a smile when I'm broken in two, I'm tremblin' inside and nobody knows it but me. I lie awake it's a quarter past three I'm screamin' at night as if I thought You'd hear me.. my heart is callin' you...

Somone said that the pain never really goes away, you just learn to live with it and you learn to live without your him. I think it is true. The kids and I will be ok, but there will always be a place in my heart that is only for Hamid. Some days that will be a weight that will pull me down but I know other days it will be a beautiful memory that will lift me up.

It's the little things

It's the little things that I miss. That morning cup of coffee that I so often took up to Hamid, "spooning" when we went to bed - he always said, "closer, closer" and I would laugh because there was no possible way for me to get closer! That glass of wine, those Sunday night Persian dinners that he cooked all day. The next morning I could still smell gormeh sabzhi when i went down to make coffee. The cool nights that come after a hot day here...they remind me of Hamid. I feel the breeze on my skin and I am back to the two of us sitting in our camp chairs, drinking Sam Adams in the middle of our dirt yard, and planning the flowers and the pool. It was such an exciting time; our dreams were coming true.

Today we went to Huntington Beach - it was beautiful and we had so much fun. I thought of Hamid the entire time but it was ok. It was freeing. On the way home we drove by the exact beach there in Huntington where we came with Hamid last year after he got out of the hospital. I thought of us then, there was a lot of hurt but there was so much hope. He looked so healthy and strong. He and dad must have spent over an hour just trying to get his new kite up!

Yes, it is the little things in life that become so significant, so grounding. Those are the things that we need to be thankful for each day. That phone call in the middle of the day to say hello, holding hands and walking, playing with ariyana, listening to electric guitar, cooking dinner, going to the store...there are so many, little things. I don't think I even realized how closely our lives were woven - a beautiful, intricate quilt. Tonight I thank God for the little things that Hamid and I had, and I thank Him for the little things that I still have in my life each day.

Remembering

"A wife sits on the bed, gently holding and rocking her newborn. She looks down adoringly at the small child and then lifts her eyes to turn her gaze to her husband sleeping quietly in the next bed. His chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm for the first time today. I sit in a folding chair between the two beds and I too shift my glances between the precious sleeping baby and his father. And as I do this I’m aware that I’m in some of the most sacred space I’ve ever touched. I’m also aware that I’m immersed in terrible beauty…"

A friend of mine, Chris, who was the chaplain at Sharp, shared this with me yesterday...as I read it I remembered those days, the pain, the hope, the uncertainty...the unwaivering love of husband and wife. Many times I looked to Afshin for strength and to remind me of the gift of life that Hamid and I had been given in the midst of all of this.

I need to share the rest of Chris' writings here as they inspire me and also help me to put my guard down and feel some of the sharp pain of losing the love of my life...the one person whose warmth filled me each night, whose arms protected me, whose laugh brightened my days, whose love filled my heart.

Reflecting on his year, Chris shared, "I’ll never forget that from a 45 year old radiologist with stage 4 terminal cancer and his pregnant wife I learned how the words “for better and for worse, in sickness and in health” are lived out unfailingly amidst a terrible beauty of reality. I learned how cancer really can’t cripple love, invade the soul, or silence courage. I learned that in the midst of winter one can discover in themselves an invincible summer."

It is a time where there are no words. But I sit here and I read this over and over. I cry, I remember, I smile...I miss him so much. They say Hamid is looking down on us and that he is with us, but I want to feel him. I want that touch of his hand and warmth of his body just one more time. What I would give to just see him again, vibrant and strong and have him tell me that we're going to be ok.

Letting go of the guilt

I have had people say to me how lucky I am that I have no regrets. Hamid and I did make the most of the time we had together and we lived and we went through it together. We had so many deep talks this past year. Many were ones that you never want to have yet after talking, crying, and holding each other, we always felt better. I still remember the day when the doctor told us that he had carcimetosis. He came to work with me so I could get my bags and then we went home. We told Mara we needed to be alone for a while and we went upstairs together where we just cried, a cry of pain and fear that seemed almost unbearable. We held each other close as if together we could keep time from moving on. But it moved on. After laying there a while, Hamid told me it was time to stop crying and watch a movie. He hugged me again but this time with a smile of courage - I am sure he was just hiding his pain behind it, but he did it for me. So we went on and laughed and loved. We knew we would face this together.

We did so much this past year...quality family time, walking and biking early in the morning, the aqaurium, zoo, trick or treating, traveling to MO and NM...and then when Hamid became really sick we still lived as much as we could...Christmas and New Years at Sharp, Afshin's birth, love notes and secret admirers, dancing to our wedding song, movie nights...and then home. It was so good to be home together....watching movies, playing cards, going outside, playing with ariyana and afshin, tea parties, birthday celebrations, the wii, our convertible trip, picnics, renewing our vows, and more...I was by his side until the end.

But I do, I did..I had one regret. I hadn't told anyone until just a few weeks ago. I told Hamid that I would push his pain button and that I would keep pushing it so that he wouldn't suffer. I promised him. But those last 36 hours were so hard. I increased his pain medicine even higher than the on-call doctor told me to do and I pushed the button and when I fell alseep the nurse continued to push it...but he was so restless...should I have increased it more and earlier? I told him I wouldn't let him suffer. He didn't really talk to me after Monday night. One time on Tuesday he seemed to focus just for a moment when I showed him a picture of his father and Abdul. It was so hard to see him restless and not able to communicate with us. I keep thinking and maybe hoping that neurologically he couldn't have been "aware" at that point...I don't know. I just pray that God released his soul from that body even before he passed. I know Hamid knew I was doing all that I could but it wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen to us...we had everything.

So this guilt...I have been holding on to it but after talking to my friend about it and then opening up to a few others I am letting it go. I know if Hamid could, he would wrap his arms around me and tell me that he is alright, that he loves me, and he is waiting for me but that I need to take care of the kids and be happy. And so another day goes by and I cry, but I smile and laugh to. I will never be the same but I will be ok.

Goodnight

It's late. Hamid and I used to be in bed at 9pm, curled up together watching tv with me eating my ice cream and he sneaking a bite before falling asleep beside me . I miss those nights, especially when he pulled me in close to him as he did every night. He would always say come closer and I would scoot closer so there was nothing between us at all - just each other. It is amazing how something so simple was so powerful. I always felt safe there snuggled against him. It is something to cherish.

Goodnight my love. I miss you so much. I hate that life goes on - it should just stop so that I can just be. But the sun keeps coming up and yes, that rooster down behind the house keeps crowing and that donkey keeps hee-hawing for what ever reason each night. It is late and very quiet now. Ariyana and Afshin are sleeping. I wish I could feel you just one more time and have you remind me that we will be ok. I know we will but the world is not as bright without you here. I smile and laugh but it's as if only part of me is there in that moment. Another part of me cries out for you to be there by my side. Behind the smile there is the pain. They say it won't always be there. That is probably true but it is there now. So Hamid, I will try to go to sleep now and maybe you will visit me in my dreams. But it is ok if you don't as you are always in my heart.

Here I am

Today it has been one month since my husband died. Each day I ask myself, how can I live without him, without the love of my life. I always know the answer...it is through faith, our two beautiful children, family, friends. And Hamid wanted me to keep living. But it is so hard. I never truly understood what it meant to have a void but I do now. I have always been happy - Hamid loved that about me. He said I always brought him a sense of peace; I was his light. My light still burns strongly for my children, but some of the lights were blown out and will never be rekindled.

So I go on, grounding myself in routine and habits. Ariyana and Afshin also help to ground me. Ariyana is so full of energy and curiosity. Afshin is one big smile that melts your heart....just like his father! I have to figure out to do it all - balance the children, house and full time job. I know millions of women do it and I will do it, too, but it just wasn't supposed to be like this. We had the perfect life, we had everything we could want. That diagnosis turned our world upside down.

I remind myself of how lucky Hamid and I were to have had 13 incredible years and were more in love than ever. Some people don't find true love. I played "the dance" at Hamid's service - it seemed to speak to me - if I hadn't had this pain, I would have missed out on the beauty of loving Hamid, and his love was worth a lifetime. I miss you so much, Hamid.