"I gotchu, Mere Jaan" (my love). I heard a husband say this to his wife as I was walking into Friday prayer. She had asked him to pray for her sister. It was so sweetly said. This was after I watched a older man pull the hood on to his mother's head to protect her from the rain as he walked her to the mosque. Focus on the good, right? I decided to go to the 11:30am Jummah at ADAMS-Sterling because Imam Kebba Sallah's recitation is beautiful, mashAllah. Honestly, he also is concise and allows me to actually pay attention. Let's just say my attention span is not at its peak these days.
I am sitting in Panera attempting to put together my course work discussing my privilege. One, is Panera on the boycott list? Two, my privilege? Where do I start? Maybe with the idea that my mental health is struggling and while I know I can turn away from the images, the Palestinian people can't...it's their reality. I lost my beautiful child to a bone marrow failure disease and not to a genocide but yet, there is a connection with those mothers. Hadi, my guide continues to remind me that there is no power or might except God. La halwa wala quwatta billa. I gotchu, mere jaan. #jummah #freepalestine #ceasefire #grief #boycott
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#marchformarrow #aplasticanemia #grief #twins #griefbomb I struggle with this.
One, I know people mean well but man oh man, sometimes I want to just say-nope, not helpful. That being said, I know Hadi is in a better place and I can’t wait to be reunited with him. I mean, while I miss him terribly, knowing he doesn’t have to deal with pokes for blood draws in Jannah makes me happy. We are coming up on five years. I might not write as much as I used to but trust me, grief doesn’t go away and I will continue to honor Hadi by supporting causes that he cared about. I smile as Facebook keeps wanting to use Hadia Mubarak’s name when I type Hadi. I think about how she took the twins on a field trip once and how Hadi had no qualms about asking for an apple from her. My boys both ate apples often, including the cores…never thought anyone else did this and it came up in conversation with Amina Rehman Hasan about how her nephew does. Grief bombs…they come out of nowhere and the tears are needed but man, they can be exhausting. Mushroom coffee? Nah, gonna get the real stuff. March for Marrow is this Sunday. Keep me in the lead and be part of finding a cure for the beast that is aplastic anemia. Yes, I want to be in the lead to honor my son but I would also be alright if you donated to Debby Ziff Cook, an aplastic anemia warrior who just lost her father or even to Travis Georgieff whose daughter is the true definition of an aplastic anemia warrior and is doing well after a bone marrow transplant. https://aamdsif.salsalabs.org/.../t/teamwatience/index.html You also can still register to attend and see if I do a booty shake or break down during the welcome. It’s anyone’s guess. It’s becoming a routine that I wish didn’t exist. Another pillar of the community passing. Where to sit at ADAMS, where to park at Sterling Cemetery. When to visit Hadi. They all hit hard but this one…Uncle Ashraf’s smile alone could lift my spirits. Seeing Auntie and him at Jummah always warmed my heart.
Who knew that a quinoa cookie could actually be kinda tasty? Then again, I am exhausted in only the way ISNA can make you and I might feel differently about a quinoa cookie if I was on less than four hours of sleep. O’Hare was surprisingly not horrible this morning and I am glad I took a 7am flight.
Damn, Dave. You still move my soul in a way that’s indescribable. The words hit differently than they did back in college. Maybe it’s because Boone’s isn’t involved. Merriweather Post Pavilion with neighbors who have seen me through the loss of Hadi and a tough divorce, along with their three amazing kids on a
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