Despair

Our writer cousin told me once that when I write I should describe what I am feeling. For example, if I am happy, what does it tase like, what does it feel like? Basically, one needs to experience the emotion on all levels, then describe it.



Last night I experienced despair on such a level. I felt immersed, submerged in despair. Have you ever felt such despair? It feels as if I am sinking in quicksand; but instead of quicksand, it is heavy, dark, thick mud. It is getting all over me, getting stuck in clumps in my hair, in my pores. It takes a stronghold wherever it is on me, and slowly brings me down. Knowingly, I go down with it, hoping I will eventually find respite from this slow torture.


Despair tastes like gray dry ashes in my mouth. It sticks to my tongue, threatening to choke me as I try to swallow it. It is hard to swallow, hard to digest, hard to accept. But, at the same time, I know it is something that is going to be with me forever.


Despair is a painful silence. It deafens me with its overbearing volume. Slicing through me, more louder than a cheering crowd at a soccer game. The silence of despair permeates throughout the air around me. It overrides any other sound. If I am in a room full of people, I hear the silence instead of the chatter of people. It drowns out all other sounds.


This is my despair, this is my world.

Where They Both Be

Sweet death, come and embrace me.

Wrap your wretched talons around me.

Squeeze the ebbing life out of me.

Take me away to where they both be.

Help me be happy like I once used to be,

For after all, this isn't how it was supposed to be.

This is most unbearable, can't you see?

That I need to be where they both be.

Three Boys

Three boys standing together,

Where there should be four.

Three boys laughing together,

It makes my loss feel more.

Three boys growing together,

As so should have you.

These boys will grow old together,

But will never forget you.

Cousin Get Together 2010

This picture is from the summer of 2009 when we went for a weekend trip in NYC
Airy mountains,

I love the view.

But through it all,

There's no sight of you.

Frolicking children in the pool,

But not one of them is either of you.

Days will come, days will go,

My love will stay for both of you.

This poem was written when I was in the mountains of Vermont, as I was watching AMM and QMM's cousins playing in the pool.

I Love You, AMM

Ahad's last birthday, his 12th birthday, November 2009

Today I woke up with AMM's name on my lips; memories of him overflowing my mind, cascading over me, soothing me and burning me at the same time. My heart felt as if it were about to burst with thoughts of him. I recalled the first time he said "I love you" to me. I mean, actually SAID it to me. You see, AMM had Aspergers Syndrome , as well as comprehension issues and was therefore unable to properly communicate as a child. He used to exhibit echolalia, which is repeating what one hears. So, if I said I love you to him, he would parrot it back to me. He never initiated it, for him it was something he was incapable of during that time of his life. Throughout his preschool years I would tell him "I love you" and he would repeat back "I love you", not really understanding the emotion behind it.

Ahad started going to a special school when he entered pre-k. They started working with him, and we tried to do our best at home. They would give us suggestions, things to do at home to help AMM so that he could overcome his challenges. I stopped my BSN studies and started learning about Aspergers. I picked his teachers' brains, read books, and went on the internet in my quest to help AMM. I tried to find him the tools, and AMM absorbed everything and worked hard at overcoming his obstacles.

Ahad entered kindergarten in the public school system. He was in a self-contained classroom. During the winter of that year, AMM and I were standing in the laundry room preparing to face the frigid weather outside. I was getting bundled up in my coat,scarf, and gloves. AMM was also getting ready...he had his coat, gloves, and hat on. However, he was looking for his scarf which was not to be found in the laundry room. He made a comment that he was going to be cold without his scarf (he used to bundle up very thoroughly before going out). I automatically took off my scarf and handed it to him. He took it in his gloved hands, looked at me and said with awe in his voice "you would let me wear it?". I answered "of course, you won't be cold now". He stared at me for a second, gripping the scarf in his hand, then suddenly wrapped his arms around my legs and said with emotion in his voice "I love you". I was amazed, I was floored, I was humbled, and I was proud of AMM. He had just TOLD me that he loved me, he didn't just parrot words back to me he had heard. AMM had just conquered one of the obstacles he used to face.

On that icy cold winter day, the sun came out from behind the clouds for me, with a promise of a rainbow. For AMM loved me, and he had told me.

My Coin Collection

This poem is dedicated to QMM.

I had a coin collection, that I was going to leave to you.

But now that you're gone, I don't know what to do.

Who else will appreciate my coins, the way I saw you do?

Who else will warm my heart, the way you used to do?

The coins, will stay now in my drawer; they have nothing else to do.

Slowly, they will gather dust, as my tears fall for you.

For you see, my dear, they used to be a fun thing to do.

My greatest treasure in the world was all three of you.

No One To Replace You

Long summer days are longer without you.

Fireworks are no longer bright without you.

Life is so lonely now without you.

My arms are empty, they cannot hold you.

Cooling ice-cream has no charm without you.

The movie theater has empty spaces for you.

The backyard screams to me it wants you.

The driveway wonders, where exactly are you?

Your bedrooms await, waiting for you.

Your beds are cold, waiting to warm you.

Your clothes remain where they were left by you.

Your shoes gather dust, there is no one to replace you.

Soothe me

This picture is from September 2009, when we went to a Rutgers home game.

Soothe me, my boys, come and soothe me.

Only you and God, can do that for me.

There is nothing left here on earth for me.

Angel of Death, please come and release me.

Beautiful memories

This picture is from the summer of 2009, when we went to Niagara Falls.

Beautiful memories that make me cry,

In the empty house that mournfully sighs.

To touch your clothes with wistful longing,

Cuts to my soul...I have no sense of belonging.

A Head Start in Life

I always used to kid around that I had gotten a head start in life. I had always been the youngest in school (up to high school). I had graduated a year early since I had skipped a grade. I got engaged at the age of 17, married at the age of 18, pregnant at 19, had MAM at the age of 20, pregnant again at 21, had QMM at the age of 22. My 23rd year was a quiet year; pregnant again at the age of 24, and had AMM at the age of 25. We had gotten our first home when I was about 22.

Now I wonder...I buried my boys at the age of 37, which is early also. Maybe, just maybe, I will be lucky enough to die early too, and then I can be with them.

June 21st, 2010...The Longest Day of the Year

This picture is from the summer of 2009. The boys were sleeping in, and I was creeping on them (as QMM would have said).

Yesterday, we started looking at headstones for the boys. I was originally going to write about what we did, what we experienced as we went through yesterday, yet another trial in this nightmare. But why rehash it? Why go into detail of how the headstone seller was not seeing us as parents who have had both their arms cut off, but as dollar signs? For, in all fairness, that is his bread and butter. Our loss, his gain.

Why go into detail of how compassionate the cemetery man was? He was the one who told us we were being charged an exorbitant fee for the headstone. What good does it do to recount his comment "you both are young. You can have more children."? Why doesn't anyone understand that nobody can replace my QMM and AMM?

Yet, I still recount the events. I don't know why.

What emotions did I experience yesterday? I had that same feeling again, the one when this whole nightmare started. My mind kept on saying "this really CAN'T be happening to ME...this only happens in soap operas, in movies; surely, this is not happening to ME.". But is IS happening to me, it IS happening to BAM, it IS happening to MAM. And it DID happen to QMM and AMM - they lie under the ground, while we tread above the ground, waiting to join them.

What would QMM and AMM have said if I had told them on June 21, 2009 "boys, this is your last summer on this earth. Your father, sister, and I will be looking at headstones for your graves next year at this time".For that matter, what would I have said if somebody would have told me last year what I would be doing on June
21st, 2010...the longest day of the year????

This IS Family...

I grew up not knowing a lot about the meaning of family. I was part of a "nuclear" family - parents, siblings, and myself. That was family to me. We really didn't have a close interpersonal relationship; that was just how it was for me.

So, I was very surprised (in fact, it was like a culture shock) when I married my husband (no, that isn't the culture shock part) and entered his world of family (enter culture shock here). Family for him did not mean his immediate family; it meant aunts, uncles, and THE COUSINS. For me, my extended family meant an occasional trip to Pakistan that involved a lot of blurry faces packed into a few weeks where half the time I was jet lagged. My husbands situation was actually the opposite of mine; his "nuclear" family was back in Pakistan, and his extended family was here. His extended family in the US was made up of The Cousins (insert dramatic music here please).

I started to understand the dynamics of this rare breed at this thing they called the Cousin Get Together (CGT). This strange phenomenon was when all the cousins would - yes, you got it - get together. It was a collection of first cousins in the U.S., all young couples, that would meet and bond for a weekend. I was pleasantly surprised (and in awe) of how close they all were and how welcoming they were towards me.

As the years went by, I took their presence as part of my life; I couldn't imagine them NOT being part of my existence. Years went by, we all started having babies. We would share pregnancy stories, baby stories, and discuss the most pressing issue of the moment ("should I introduce my baby to solids with pureed carrots or pureed plums?"). We would visit one another outside of the CGT.

As our children started growing up, we started forming bonds with them, and they with us. I used to tell my husband that I was so fortunate to have married him because of, well, his cousins. For now my children had something that I had lacked in my childhood...they had close bonds with their aunts, uncles, and THEIR cousins. They had a sense of belonging, a safe haven they could turn to. I remember how one time one of AMM's aunts went for a summer vacation. When she came back, we decided to go to her home and welcome her back. Imagine my surprise when AMM, who walked through her front door smiling, saw her, hugged her, sat down on her couch with a big sigh, and then proceeded to tell her every single injustice he felt he had incurred during her absence. It was then that I realized that AMM had his very own personal Dear Abby in the form of this aunt!

QMM loved his family too. He was especially close to a cousin of his in NY, MFA. They were both like peas in a pod...the male and female version of the same persona. She would sometimes come to stay with us, supposedly to hang out with my daughter. However, most of the time, it seemed like she was here to hang with QMM; they were glued at the hip. They were, I thought, the same personality with the same interests. 2 sides of the same coin, I used to think. For that matter, AMM also loved her very much. He used to use her as his personal sofa; where she would sit, he would come and sit ON TOP of her!

I always knew we were close and very fortunate to have such close ties, but I didn't realize how deep these ties ran till I lost my boys. When I got off the plane at JFK, I was expecting that I would be waiting to receive my sons' coffins with just my husband and daughter. But instead, they were ALL there. All of QMM and AMM's beloved aunts, uncles, and cousins were there to receive them for the last time. At times, I couldn't tell where my tears ended and theirs began. The same grief was pulsating through our veins, our bodies, reaching into the innermost recesses of our being as if we were one. It wasn't just BAM and I that had lost our sons, it wasn't just MAM that had lost her brothers; the cousins had lost their sons too, for the boys were their sons. MAM was not the only one who had lost her brothers; the younger generation of cousins had lost their brothers too.

How fortunate my boys are to have been loved so much. Thank-you Cousins, for having loved OUR sons .

Your Brown Eyes

I always thought QMM's eyes reflected his personality. Beautiful, beautiful eyes. From a distance, they could trick you. They appeared to be dark eyes, like mine. However, as you got closer to him...

My God...QMM...AMM. Sometimes when I think of you I feel that there are no words to describe what I feel. My throat feels as if it's closing up, I'm gasping for air, suffocating slowly...

Sorry...back to the eyes. Yes, as you would get a closer glimpse of them you could see that they were actually lighter than my eyes; they were brown in color. A beautiful brown color. I loved looking at his eyes. And, QMM being QMM, knew that he had gorgeous eyes. I would sometimes call him "hey brown eyes" , and he would look at me, as if saying "and your point is?". He knew that the girls in his school also liked his eyes, as he had told me on many an occassion (I never had to worry that he had self-esteem issues!). His sister would sometimes say "it's not fair. Why couldn't I have eyes like him?".

His eyes were so round, so rich in color. Limitless in their depths, with the black pupils in the center. I try to remember them that way, when he would be looking at me, talking to me; his eyes full of life and animation.

I try to block out when I pulled up his eyelids, when he was lying on the floor, motionless, with the ceiling fan continuing its rotations above him. His pupils were fully dilated, so that all I could see were the thin outer rims of his brown irises, and the middle was eclipsed by abnormally large dark pupils. There was no pupillary reflex. There was no smile in the eyes, no "this is all a joke..gotcha!" There was no voice from the form lying above on the bed, saying "we tricked you!!!".

And then, when I saw those eyes for the final time after we landed in NY. Both of my boys' eyelids were slightly ajar. I could see the pigmentation of their beautiful eyes was fading. And I knew they needed to be laid to rest.

But then, when I start feeling the horror revisit me, I try to remember; in my dream, his eyes were still brown, beautiful, full of expression. And that's what I need to remember.

Seconds

When I wake up, I face my anguish. Going through the long, dragging seconds. Seconds, that do not include you at my side. Seconds, that do not include you talking to me, or I talking to you. Seconds, where I sit alone in front of the TV, watching, but not seeing, what we used to see together. Seconds, where I keep on glancing at where you used to sit. Seconds, where I have so much to say to you, but no longer can. Seconds, where my arms ache to hold you, but instead they hold faraway memories. Seconds, where I long to see you by my side, but instead see shadows of your existence. Of you.

Memories of my AMM

I miss AMM so much. Not that I miss one boy more over the other; it's just that QMM was an independent teenager on his way to becoming a young man. And AMM was my sidekick. Actually, I'm not sure if he was my sidekick, or if I was HIS sidekick. We would watch movies together. Usually, he would get fixated on one movie, so we would watch it repeatedly (as in every day repeatedly!). For some reason, I never got bored..in fact, I looked forward to our movie time together. We would put on the movie, AMM would grab the nearest blanket, and then we would snuggle while watching the movie.

Now, let me tell you about the snuggling. He would curl up alongside my body, or sometimes in my lap. His body was so soft, so malleable, that he would conform his body to mine and we would sit or lie together comfortably, covered with a warm blanket. We were like two peas in a pod.He was so soft, so warm. He had not hit the teenage years yet, so he still had the body of a child, though he was starting to grow taller. What cozy times we had together; not only physically cozy, but also emotionally cozy and satisfying.

It was fun watching TV shows with him too, for the same reason. One of our favorite shows we liked to watch together was Penguins of Madagascar. Yesterday, I watched it for the first time without him. It was an episode we had seen together. I watched it, but didn't enjoy it.I watched it, but didn't see it. I had our blanket on, but I didn't feel cozy or comfortable. All I felt was his absence, and my loss.

For that is what I feel now...lost. AMM was the focus of my life. My goal had been for him to overcome his challenges, make his weaknesses his strengths. And, how well he was doing! I was so proud of his accomplishments, just as he was.

Now I feel as if I am a ship without an anchor, just drifting aimlessly along. There is no destination now; I am allowing the winds of life to push me where they may, the waves of fate can move me wherever they wish to take me.

I miss how he would come into my bed - late at night, or early morning - snuggle up against me, conforming his form against my form, and sleep. He fit perfectly in my arms. He was perfect for me.

I am trying to distract myself, to keep myself busy. As well as a new job, I have started other activities. These include blogging, crocheting, taking art lessons, taking piano lessons, as well as continuing to read. But nothing helps. I still feel lost, maybe this is how it will be form now on. This, then, is my new life, my new reality.

Tired

I feel so tired. I'm tired of life. I'm tired of waking up every morning, feeling overwhelmed as soon as I open my eyes by the prospect of facing the day without you. Seconds turn into minutes...minutes turn into hours...hours turn into days...days turn into weeks...weeks turn into months...and these long months will turn into even longer years. And it all happens slowly. So...very...slowly. I feel myself drowning sometimes. I can no longer see the surface of the water; I am in the dark depths of the ocean. The pressure of the water bears down on me, my lungs feel as if they will burst, I have no oxygen, I am suffocating. I feel myself sinking to the bottom willingly, not wanting to fight this losing battle anymore, for it is impossible to get to the surface now. The ocean floor is where I will dwell.

A Memory of QMM

This video of QMM exemplifies his personality. How? Well,let me explain to you what was happening in this video, and then, if you knew him, you'll understand. If you didn't know him, I will try my best to explain it!

The setting of this video is the mosque we attend. There was a weekend sleepover for teenage boys. QMM, being QMM, loved sleep. He would sleep till noon, and even then would wake up rather reluctantly. At this particular sleepover, he probably slept late because, well, just imagine...a bunch of teenage boys having a sleepover with no parents around, and young adults as chaperones (and by young adults, I mean the hip and cool type). Apparently, everybody had woken up, and Prince Charming continued to slumber on. Somebody, one of his buddies, concocted the genius idea of having everybody standing over him, and yelling in unison. The goal was to shock and awe QQM, so that he would wake up. Somebody (one of the chaperones actually...see what I mean by hip and cool?) had the even brighter idea of recording it on his camera phone. The whole group, except for QMM of course, discussed it, planned it, and then got into position.They surrounded him quietly, and with suppressed giggles, prepared for the ambush. Now, after you finish reading this part, go back and watch the video...just humor me on this one and do it. The group yelled their hearts out. Now, watch QMM. He wakes with a start and, he seems, well, scared shitless actually. There is no better way to describe the look on his face. Once he realizes what is happening, he starts smiling. And what a devastating smile he had! He took it all in stride, just smiling as he emerged from sleep, and stretched. I don't know of many people reacting that way. Some people may have gotten upset,or would have exclaimed loudly. But not QMM...that's what I loved about him. That was him, he would take everything in stride and in good humor. He was able to laugh at himself. He was a good sport. And that's just one of the many things I miss about him.

Love you always my son.

A ray of light in the suffocating darkness....my daughter

Today, I made a conscious decision to focus on something in my life that I am grateful for. And I thought of my daughter.Her strength in the face of adversity, her bravery in the face of tragedy, humbles me. She has had to endure so much, see so much, yet she still endures. I feel a punch in the gut every time I recall that morning, the morning that changed our lives forever. As I looked up from doing CPR on QMM - hunched on the floor over him, willing him to breath, to move, to do anything - I saw MAM standing in the doorway. She was still in her pajamas, with a look of horror and disbelief on her face. When I went to the hospital after the ambulance took the boys and BAM (my husband), she sat next to me in the backseat of the car. She sat next to me, both of us holding each others hands. She was my anchor in a suddenly volatile ocean; my only child that I knew was alive, was breathing; my only friend in a suddenly alien and foreign world. We were both in the car, hoping against hope that the boys would be alive, that at least ONE of them would stay with us. But it was not meant to be, and my poor daughter saw them as I did in the hospital...lying motionless, lifeless, side by side on the same stretcher, covered with a white sheet. And when we moved the sheet back, we both saw their eternally sleeping faces.
This is what she saw, what she went through. And that was just the beginning...for she has a whole life stretched out in front of her without her beloved brothers, with her memories of them, including her last memory of when she saw them. Yet, she is still moving forward, trying to make sense of this new life without her two younger brothers, walking the halls of her high school without QMM at her side. Her life has been changed forever.
MAM reminds me of a candle in a dark storm. Chaos churns around the candle, it falters but continues to fight the vicious winds, and perseveres. In the gloomy darkness, the candle emits its halo of soft light, piercing the darkness with its gentle rays. And that is what my daughter is for me...my candle in this now dark world.
Love you MAM,always.

"I know exactly how you feel"...Oh really, do you???

So, I have heard from some sincere well wishers. They give their condolences, and then say, I know exactly how you feel. They have also lost a loved one, so feel a bond with me, I guess. I acknowledge that bond, but do they know EXACTLY how I feel? One lady told a cousin of BAM's that she just HAD to have my phone number because she could help me. She had lost her child too, and she knew exactly what I was going through and was going to help me. Oh really?

I acknowledge that people who have lost a child can empathize with each other, can kind of understand the feeling of loss, devastation, and despair. But each person is unique; therefore, they perceive loss differently, they react differently, and they have different ways of coping. And bottom line, nobody knows exactly what I am going through, just as I do not know exactly what another parent who lost a child is going through. I can empathize with them, but I do not know what they are exactly going through.

To that lady who wanted to talk to me, I would ask her: do you REALLY know EXACTLY what I went through? Did she lose both her healthy sons suddenly? Did she lose them in a foreign country where she didn't know many people, didn't understand the culture? Did she have to walk into a room to find both her sons, who a few hours ago were alive and breathing, just lying there, unresponsive, not breathing, dead? Did she have to run from one child to the other, screaming their names, hoping against hope that they would open their eyes and smile? Did she have to choose who she was going to do CPR on? Did she have to do CPR on them...does she still smell the mouth of her son,like I do? Did she have to look up from doing CPR, to see her daughter staring at the scene with a look of horror, disbelief, and shock written all over her face????

I don't think so. We are all unique, we all have unique experiences, and we all react differently. Hopefully, if I ever am in a position where I meet someone who has lost a child or loved one, I will not assume that I know exactly what they are going through.

With best wishes to all and their loved ones,
AM

Why the Hell Did She Call Her Blog "Cut Onion"???

Cut Onions??? What's up with that? Has AM been watching too many cooking shows???

No, there is actually a story behind this title (really, honestly). Some of you may already know the story...of how QMM was responsible for cutting onions in our house when we had a big function to cook for. He was always recruited to peel and cut the onions. He would complain, question why his sister and brother were spared from this horrendous task, and lament about the agony his eyes were in. Yet, he always got the job done. That's the background story. Fast forward to a beautiful Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn, with our Brooklyn cousins. And without the boys. KF, the writer of the family, and whose home we were visiting, suggested I start a blog. A blog where I could express myself. One of our other cousins on the west coast, NA, had also suggested it to me not too long ago. I decided, why not? if nothing else, I know KF will come on my blog!
But what to name this blog? We didn't want to put my name, or my boys' names on the title; otherwise, a search engine would yield my blog to perhaps curious eyes. KF, FA, and myself went through several names, but none of those titles were available. The whole time we were racking our brains, MFA and BM were lying on the floor, quietly talking. All of a sudden, we heard MFA say "cut onions". No, I did not hear angels singing hallelujah, lightning did not strike me, and I did not stand up and yell "by Jove I've got it! That's the title for my blog!!!!". In fact, I totally ignored it. It was KF who said "that's a great title for the blog". And I thought, she's right (again!). It represents a memory of QMM (no dis to AMM), and it also represents our present situation. Doesn't it?
If you think about it, this grief process is like an onion. As you cut the onion, or work your way through grief, the tears just keep on coming, even if you try to stop them. But it's part of the deal...tears with cut onions...tears with grief. And it's a natural process; to try to halt it would be unnatural.
I hope this blog may someday help others who are also grieving. On that note, I go out now to buy a laptop so that I can share with all of you a piece of me, and my boys.

Till later.