Sunday, 19 February 2012

Morning Maze

Sunday morning, struggling to get out of bed. Trying to find a reason to start my day, but no reason seems good enough. I attempted getting out of bed twice, I walked to the kitchen, noticed the huge pile of dishes and then walked back to bed. I then laid there trying to figure out how to get out of bed again, and I thought if I have some coffee, perhaps it will give me the strength I need to start my day, but making the coffee required sorting through the dishes. It required dealing with the chaotic situation that existed in the kitchen, and I did not know how to maneuver through it all, it took too much energy already, so I went back to bed again, and closed the door.

Today seems to be harder than most days. Today there is nothing that I can say to myself that can soothe my aching heart enough to get myself out of bed. Darkness consumes me today, and it frightens me... I am a strong willed person, and I know that I will try again, but for now I will close my eyes and hope to dream of a place where breathing comes easy and my soul is light.

Update from later today:

I did eventually make it out of bed. A friend of mine did the dishes, made me some coffee, and did a good job at distracting me from my thoughts. Another friend who lives in another state, texted me saying "I thinks I found a way out of the maze", she (and I truly believe this woman could rule the world all on her own) looked up yoga exercises for me, that were conveniently near by and free; knowing that I probably wouldn't go if I had to travel too far or if I had to pay. She thought that yoga would help me breathe more easily and will lighten the weight of my soul.

I am so blessed to have people that are so thoughtful and kind in my life.

Friday, 17 February 2012

Saba7 El Khair

I have my graduation picture that we took together on my desk in my room. Right next to it is your watch that still deeps every hour. Every morning I look at it, and I close my eyes trying to remember the sound of your voice whenever I would see you in the mornings. Our conversation used to go like this:

Me: Saba7 el khair dad.
You: Saba7 el noor ya 7elwati ya chil 7ali... ta3li hon khaleeni ashofek.

And I would get closer to you, annoyed at how loud your voice was in the mornings, and annoyed that you had to hug and kiss me EVERY morning (it was always 3 kisses). Looking back now, I don't know how you had the energy to show so much excitement every time you saw me, I am never that excited about anything.

You used to tell me that I was very special, but you were really the special one dad.

Monday, 13 February 2012

When are we going home?

The cancer was spreading rapidly. Your pain intensified, and the doctors had to put you on morphine. That's when I first felt that I had lost you forever. You were going in and out of consciousness, your speech became incoherent, and your thoughts were scattered. The only thing you repeatedly kept asking is, "wenta bedna nraw7 3al balad (when are we going home?)", and all I could say to you is, soon... when you get some rest, we will go home.

#LoveUnderAparthied is not being able to give the person you love the things that they want.

My father Mamoun Husain, came to the US in August of 2011 seeking medical treatment for pancreatic cancer after being misdiagnosed in Palestine. My father had to travel outside his own country to seek medical treatment because of inadequate healthcare in Palestine, and racist Israeli laws that prevented him access to more advanced hospitals in Jerusalem (which were only 40 minutes away). My father died on December 4th, 2011, his final wish was to die in his own country, in his own home, where he raised his family and grew old.

Thursday, 9 February 2012

Are you having Trouble Sleeping?

She asked me if I was having any trouble sleeping. I thought about it for a moment and told her that I wasn't having any trouble sleeping, but that I was having trouble waking up.

The mornings are the hardest for me. Every morning before I get out of bed, I open my eyes and wonder if it was all just a bad dream, and then I slowly begin recalling what happened.

Every morning is a reaffirmation that you are no longer here, and it catches me by surprise every time.

In my dreams I can hear your voice again. You look like your handsome self before your illness, you smile, you laugh at your own silly jokes, and you tell me that you love me. That's the reality that I want to exist in, that's where I want to be.