Would it be odd if I bid on the brisket?
I have been thinking about this quote all morning. The thing is, I am not afraid to heal and in fact, I know it is exactly what my Hadi would want. What I am having trouble with is the days where I feel guilty for my mind stepping away from remembering my beautiful child and how much pain he had to endure. Then I realize that moment of not remembering is and will always be temporary. Aamir and I dropped of Zakaria at Islamic school at then went to Wegman's (thank you Liz and gang for allowing me to splurge on an infuser water bottle and convince Aamir to purchase flax seed) and then Michael's. I decided to pick up charcoal pencils because, hey, why not convince myself that I can draw? Actually, I so wish I knew how therapeutic art could be earlier in my life. Then, as we were driving home and I was discussing the upcoming Al Fatih dinner with Aamir, the tears came. See, Aamir won't be sitting next to me tomorrow as he has to travel for work (at least it is Pittsburgh and not Malta). He won't look over at see the tears fall down my face as I see Hadi's old classmates and teachers and he won't squeeze my hand as he wipes his own tears with a cloth napkin realizing that we won't get to let Hadi know the final bid on Aamir's brisket for the silent auction. So yes, I am healing through art, gardening, prayer and reminding myself that I actually really like beets (too random for you?). I will allow the tears to fall as I remember that I won't see my brilliant son flash that smile at his high school graduation, but I will also smile as I realize my amazing child is no longer having to deal with the trauma of aplastic anemia. The unknown of what I decide to draw...now, that is a bit terrifying. Apologies to Chewbacca.