Smell of Ramadan

Dear Mom,

I can’t believe how I never realized how much of my world was colored in by you. 262 days have passed since you have left and since then colors seem to have faded from my world. I refused to acknowledge Nowrooz this year but that was understandable since I still in a confused state—only 116 days had passed since your departure when Nowrooz arrived. But my birthday was going to be different; I was determined to celebrate my it with you. I went to the same restaurant you took me to last year. Remember when you had arranged for permission to leave the hospital for 4 hours. You told the doctor it was your daughter’s birthday and you had no intention of celebrating it in the hospital. You were in your wheelchair and all dressed up by the time I got to the hospital.

…But what am I doing? I was going to talk about Ramadan. … though I’m not sure what Ramadan? This is not Ramadan. Not the Ramadan I am used; I’m used to your Ramadan. Your Ramadan is:

  1. Hearing you wake up Shahram for sahary
  2. Hearing Iranian radio doa during sahary
  3. Coming home 2 hours before iftar and seeing you watching Kuwaiti dramas
  4. Hearing you summarize the episode even though the summary usually took longer to tell than the actual episode itself 😀
  5. Seeing you get all teary eyed and emotional over the dramas
  6. Seeing you laugh with all your heart over the Kuwaiti comedies and translating each line for me 🙂
  7. Seeing you warm up milk just before iftar
  8. The dates, cheese, walnuts, sabzy (parsely and other green vegetables) and freshly baked bread
  9. Getting all of us non-fasting people to breakfast with Shahram so he won’t feel lonely J
  10. Seeing the colorful table you had set for dinner even though only two people usual fasted during Ramadan
  11. Setting with you and watching Iranian dramas together
  12. Laughing and crying together over the storylines

Now I come home and I hear no sound of Kuwaiti drama from behind the door. I turn the key, come in and stare at the silent dark tv screen. No color. I look at the dinning table. No sabzy, no walnut, no warm milk. No color. No sound of doa during Sahar. No color. Watching Iranian dramas but no crying. No color. Watching Iranian comedies but not laughing. No color.

Ramadan has no color without you.

UPDATE: (21st Aug)

1. I saw cream caramel yesterday in the supermarket. That’s another smell of Ramadan I will never feel again–the smell of freshly made cream carmel for iftar

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s