Ten long years have passed since February 27th, 2006, the tragic day we lost our child, a day that marked our lives forever.
Today is the 10th anniversary of the day I lost my beloved little son Ali, the day a part of me died forever. Not a day has gone by when I don't think of him. I wake up everyday ,since that day, knowing I will never be able to see my son again, at least not in this life. I know I will never be able to hold him, hug him, kiss him or watch him grow and that yearning tears me apart. Yet, I carry him in my heart everywhere I go. I feel him in every corner of our home. I picture him beside his brothers and sister. I imagine him walking along every child who should be now his age.
Despite all the years that have passed the pain is just as raw. It only takes a memory of the loss to trigger it and bring it back to the surface again. It is like a wound that has been covered with tissue, but any small scratch can make it bleed again. They say time heals everything, I somehow agree, but this kind of pain doesn't heal nor does it get better with time. Ten years later, it is still intense, there to stay and will never go away. I just learned through my faith in God to accept it and endure it as the years go by.
A wise man said "grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve." The experience of grief when losing a child is lifelong. During the funeral I was numb with pain, then I fell into a depression and went through all its stages. The only thing that kept me going was my faith and my two dear children. I had to pull myself together and function for them. I was on autopilot going through the motions of daily life, but inside I was still falling apart.
Over the years I mastered how to control my pain. It is only like today that I allow myself to grieve like every mother would and should. I allow myself to unleash the pain and let go of all my emotions, to cry and let the tears wash some of the pain away. The vivid memory of every detail in that day keeps replaying in my head and all the emotions it stirs come up to the surface once again. The heaviness in my heart no longer is contained, it is an overwhelming physical pain that flows all over my body. This day I prefer to spend it alone, so I can let my guard down. There is no one to upset and I can just feel.
Whenever I talk about Ali or someone mentions him, my eyes instantly fill with tears but my heart is warmed with joy that he is never forgotten. Hence, his sweet memory brings a tear in my eye but a smile in my heart. I never dreamt of Ali, except once a few months after the funeral. I dreamt that he was offering me a cup of water. In Islam dreaming of water is a sign of happiness, peace and prosperity. I have never dreamt of him since, throughout these years. I guess he is very present in my conscious that he doesn't appear in my subconscious.
I decided to make the dream of Ali and his memory be my inspiration to do as much good in this world and to spread happiness and peace. I pray that one day I will be reunited with my little angel up in heaven. Until that day comes he his living in my heart, in my mind, and in every breath that I take.
I want to thank on this day my family and friends who stood by me in this painful time, along my journey, but most of all I want to thank my dear husband, who was experiencing the same pain yet managed to be my rock and support me through it all. God bless you all.