Scars

I have a massive scar on my thigh from where I scraped it on my father’s pull out nightstand while jumping on my parents’ bed to grab the phone. My brother and his friends weren’t much help in helping me to find band-aids and insisted I was trying to shave my legs and cut myself. Why in the world am I telling you this? I suppose it is to let you know that the wound did eventually heal but I have a daily reminder of the incident. Just like I have daily reminders of my beautiful Hadi. I am cheering on UVA (Kansas fans are soooo much better) at a basketball game and I think about how awesome Hadi was with a basketball. A bit cocky but what do you except? Kid is a Sufi and a Rasheed. Anyway, my point is that I have heard a few times that I won’t ever truly heal from losing Hadi. Now, I don’t mean to rank scraping my thigh in the same category as losing my son but what does it mean to truly heal? Yes, it will be immensely difficult at times to realize I won’t get to hear Hadi sing “The Boxer” in this lifetime but realizing that he can cheer on the Hoos now without needing any oxygen is definitely healing. Hadi, just remember the Jayhawks have a better chant.

Happy Thanksgiving all y’all.