It's still big

It's still big. The grief, the loss, the ache of living life without Hamid; it is still so big. Just now as I was opening my blog, sitting here in the living room with the candles lit while everyone sleeps, listening to classical music; the song that I walked down the aisle came on. It is playing right now. I remember how Hamid would laugh as after we were engaged and I heard this song I would start pretending to walk down the aisle. As I watched his face we would both break out in laughter anxious for that day to arrive. I guess that is all that I have to hang on to; those memories, those stories of a great love.

This is my first day of my "morning me time." I am going to try to do it each Friday morning so that I have time to write and reflect on this journey. It has been a hard few weeks. Of course, they are always filled with laughter and love with my friends, family, and most importantly, Ariyana and Afshin, but the pain is still there, and it is big. I have been pushing it aside focusing on work, home, and taking care of the kids. But it is there; an almost unbearable pain.

Somehow I find myself running into widows where ever I go. I went to get my haircut a few weeks ago and was told that my hairdresser was no longer there. Disappointed, I had a new person cut my hair. We started talking and she asked about my family. I breezed over a question about my husband, and then it came up again. I told her he died 7 months ago. She stopped cutting my hair and shared that her husband had died when she was 21 and had a 3 y.o son. I started crying as I listened to her story. I told her a little about mine, but mostly just listened and was thankful for the time that Hamid and I had to prepare and to say good-bye. As I left the salon that evening we hugged and each of us felt that we had met for a reason.

Then I had to go to Mailboxes to have a mortgage paper notarized. I took Hamid's death certificate since he is still listed on the paperwork. As the woman was taking down the information I said that I was the only one signing the papers. She said, "He has to be here for me to notarize his signature." I slid the death certificate towards her and told her that he was dead. At that point she stopped and looked at me and said she was sorry. She asked if we had children so I told her about Ariyana and Afshin. She then shared that her husband was killed by a drunk driver when her son was 3 y.o. I asked her how her son was doing. She said that he was very good and that he loved hearing the stories about his dad since he had been too little to remember him. That sentencecut through me like a knife. I quickly put on my sunglasses, thanked her, and left.

I think that is one of the hardest and most painful things for me to accept. Ariyana likely will not remember all of the love that Hamid had for her. She won't remember how he called her Joujay and how he loved to pick her up and kiss her all over. How she had him wrapped around her finger from the moment she arrived. I know I will give her those memories through the stories and the pictures, but it just hurts so much. And Afshin. That is all that he will have is just the stories I can tell him. It just doesn't seem fair that they didn't have a chance to know Hamid. Just writing about it now is painful and I can't even express all of my emotions. I will do my best though to help them to remember their father and to really know him. He was an amazing man.