Letting go…

My next chapter has started…and as I was getting into the swing of things I realized that I literally opened a new page.

It is that simple and yet very complicated. When you think that your life experiences have given you control over the steering wheel, one incident or “a quiz” as a new friend has described it, can easily force you to put your life on hold. 

I was “paused” if I may say so, for quite some time. And when I was given the green light to walk again, I literally started running as if I was going to miss my train.

And what really prompted me to write this post was a thought I just had about letting go. What a difficult lesson it was to really understand what letting go of control really meant.

I will share a story I read in a book about a woman who was stuck in traffic.  In the rear view mirror she could see a speeding truck approaching her without any signs of stopping or even slowing down. She freaked out and held on to the steering wheel with all her strength. That is possibly the normal reaction anybody would have if faced with a similar situation. But as she could see that the truck was going to inevitably hit her from the back, she immediately decided to let go of the steering wheel and allow destiny to take its course.  The truck hit her car and she only suffered minor injuries. She later found out that if she had kept her hands on the wheel she would’ve died instantly. But because she let go, she allowed her muscles to relax and therefore saved her own life.  Letting go saved her! And I think this applies to everything we do. Assuming control over our life can really hurt us.

There’s so much beauty in life if we learn to let the universe do the thinking for us!

If we’d only pause and think of all the plans that never saw the light or the number of times we said I will never do this again, I think we’ll stop holding on to the plan as if it were the bible. 

When I experienced life in Beirut, I said I would live here for the rest of my life. I made a vow to myself never to go back to Jordan or Dubai. And guess what? I always tell that story, the angels packed my bags and sent me back to Jordan for almost two years and they packed them again and brought me back to Dubai.  And I can share a hundred similar stories about the many paths I never thought I would cross, and the beautiful people I never thought I would meet! Looking back, would I have wanted a different outcome? I don’t think so. I would’ve tweaked my plans to accommodate the same exact train of events.

All I can say at this point is thank you God for all your blessings and to all the good friends that have kept me sane throughout the difficult phase, I don’t want to imagine what my life would’ve been like without you in it! 

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My father is gone!

August 11, 2012 signaled the end of life as I have known it for the past nine years.  I look at my parents’ picture and feel at peace that both are together in heaven smiling down at us. But then I wish I could grab them both out of the picture and pretend they’re still here.

I’ve been at peace with my mother’s loss for quite sometime. But the minute my father took his last breath, all the painful memories were awakened within a fraction of a second. I felt double the pain and double the agony. I felt my heart stopped beating and I wished God would take me with him. I was holding his hand, trying to keep it warm and whispered in his ears that it was ok to go, but deep inside I was aching for him to stay.  I was screaming inside.

I kept taking mental pictures of every second with him.  The last few hours are so clear in my head, every breath, every prayer and even every teardrop.

I thought the separation would be easier but it was much more painful than I have ever imagined. It felt like someone has taken my baby away from me! I swear for a moment I felt like a mother mourning the loss of her child. I could feel the pain in my heart like someone has just stabbed me.

I had been mourning my father for at least five years and I thought I’d cried all the tears but it turned out that I haven’t. 

I look around the house and take occasional glimpses of his empty bedroom and think ‘how on earth am I supposed to move on?’ Life can’t go on without him.  He can’t just be another portrait on the wall! But he is now and will always be.

It was less than a month ago when I sat at his bedside, held his hand and thought this moment will soon be a memory. I remember crying in silence because I was worried he’d sense my anxiety.  I don’t know how many times I kissed his hands and thanked him in my heart for being the best father anybody could ask for. 

Even throughout the hardest times of his illness, when roles were switched and he was the child, he still managed to express fatherly love.

I keep getting flashbacks of the times when he’d be looking at me with love in his eyes, and despite the fact that he’d forgotten all the words, he still remembered how to say “my love, my soul, my heart”!

Those are the moments that will forever be engraved in my memory.

I still don’t know how the new chapter of my life would look like.

But I do know that life without them will never be the same.

Double the love

(This post was written on May 17 and I never got to finish it. But I just decided to post it anyway)

I’ve been having negative thoughts lately…a bad feeling in my gut and heaviness in my heart.

The thought of losing my father has always been part of our daily lives ever since he was diagnosed with brain tumor nine years ago. But when this thought started to take shape in the past week into a close possibility, it erased every single moment we’ve lived with the illness! It felt like he was just diagnosed.

Everything came back…the same fear, the anxiety, and the memories of the most difficult moments we had when we first found out about my parents’ illness all rushed back.

Until last week, I felt things were relatively under control. I don’t know what happened a few days ago, a strange feeling of an urgent attachment to my father took over.

I suddenly had a gut feeling to do anything he asks for even the things that aren’t necessarily good for him like unhealthy food or too much caffeine. It was as if a voice inside of me was telling me it was now time to let go.

It may or may not be time but the look on his face says it all. Although he can’t express with words his eyes are pleading for us to stop torturing him with routine!

And we succumbed without negotiation…I don’t know what happened but I felt that we were inspired to grant him his freedom.

I never felt this scared ever since we were faced with the reality that my father’s brain tumor was untreatable. I don’t know what to think or how to rationalize or come to terms with the possibility of anything happening anytime soon.

A million thoughts are thundering through my head. I suddenly feel guilty for every second I complained about my father’s symptoms or felt tired because of them. I feel guilty for sometimes thinking of him as a burden!

I can’t help it but lately my memory is taking me back to the different stages of my father’s journey with his disease and it’s tiring to think of everything we went through.  

I don’t know why this is happening to me but I feel that God has suddenly granted me double the patience and double the strength to carry on caring for my father with all the love there is.

I must admit that sometimes I look at my life in the past nine years and ask God why? Why did I have to go through all this? Why was I chosen among all these people to live the most vital years of my life worrying about loss? I lost my mother and lived all these years worrying about losing my father.

And the scariest thought is that sometimes I feel like I lost sense of reality and can’t physically identify with most of what happens to me and around me. I sometimes make believe that I was and still am watching a long movie.

Little things

I had two anxiety attacks in one day. They both happened while I was in the middle of two happy moments. They can hit anytime even when I’m in a good mood.

Although I got used to dealing with panic attacks, every time they hit it’s a surprise and I go through the same thought process that leads me to thinking that something bad is going to happen to me. My blood pressure goes down and I start getting dizzy until my subconscious wakes up to remind me that everything will be fine and that I just need to rationalise and take deep breaths. I do that until my heartbeat slows down and my mind goes back to its senses.

Every time this happens to me, I tell myself that I should not underestimate the stress that I'm going through. I say to myself you're only getting these attacks because your system can't take the pressure. You'll be ok, it's just a panic attack and soon it will disappear like nothing happened.

Come to think about it, this is a serious struggle. But I so got used to panic attacks that I never think about them as an inevitable consequence of what’s going on in my life right now.

But today it hit me that when we go through hard times for a long period of time, our system gets used to it as if this is the norm and we programme ourselves to adapt to the new situation.

When the second attack hit me I was watching a soccer match with friends and my team was winning. One minute I was feeling like I was going to die and that it was the end of the world and when it passed a few minutes later it felt as if the sun was shining again. When the peace came back I started writing this post in my head and the first thought that came to mind was “life is beautiful!”

Little things in life become very special and we take time to enjoy every moment. I truly enjoyed that moment of peace right after the storm as if it were the happiest moment of my life.

Blessed

My father’s blood pressure was severely high this morning. It reached a high of 200/120. The minute the nurse called me at 5:00a.m. I thought it was the end. I freaked out. A million thoughts crossed my mind. I had flashbacks of August 19, 2003 when my father woke us up at 5:00 a.m. to take mom to the hospital because she couldn’t tolerate the pain. Two days later she passed away in the hospital. We were in disbelief because she was just right there a few hours ago talking to us. Nobody told us she was leaving so soon. I remember the doctor telling me she only had 24 hours to live but that conversation took place over the phone. So I guess I didn’t get it because the doctor wasn’t there. I didn’t see his facial expressions as he was breaking the most difficult piece of news anybody could ever hear! When I called a few hours later to tell him that my mom was asking for him, he said he wouldn’t be able to make it because he was having dinner with friends.  I didn’t blame him then. I guess to him my mom’s case was just another patient who was dying. But he was oblivious to the fact that it was our first encounter with death. He didn’t know that we, as a family, would’ve appreciated a little more consideration to this painful reality.

Nine years later, I was woken up at 5:00 a.m. about a similar emergency. My heart dropped at the very thought of WHAT IF?  But this time the experience was different. I knew that the person I'd call would not dismiss me but would get up from a deep sleep to be with us for as long as needed. I wished I could go back in time and relive the same experience with my mother.

Ghadeer, my father’s hospice nurse is Godsend.  When she told us she was a phone call away she literally meant it. She rushed to attend to my father immediately after I called her and greeted him with a big smile and a kiss. She didn’t leave him until she made sure he was ok.

Though a close friend introduced me to the angel world of hospice care years ago, I didn’t appreciate its value until we reached out to their support a few weeks ago.

When I mistakenly thought that my father’s high blood pressure signaled the end, it was actually the beginning of our real experience with hospice care.  Today I felt we were blessed to have been introduced to what I would like to call “the hospice angels”. Now I understand what my friend, who started a hospice organisation in Lebanon” meant when she said her mission was to preserve the dignity of patients with terminal illnesses. 

My father’s dignity was preserved today. His call for help was respected at the comfort of his own home.  

I thanked God a million times because we were spared the agony of spending time in the hospital.  I thanked him for sparing us the pain of watching our father’s aching brain wonder why he was being dragged out of bed into an ambulance car yet again!

This thought humbled me. It made me feel that one shouldn’t really worry about anything in life because nothing matters. What really matters is being blessed with moments of peace when we truly need them.  Today I forgot all my worries and thanked God for his blessings.  I knew that whatever happens and whenever it happens we will be blessed with his peace.

Inspired!

I can’t get myself to sleep. I think I have too much energy in my system that could keep a whole population awake! My heart is wide open and my mind is full of happy and hopeful thoughts. 

I was inspired tonight. 

I haven’t been inspired for a very long time. My mind was put to rest and my conscience was reassured.

You must be wondering what the hell is this woman talking about?

I’m talking about unspoken or undiscovered wisdom that we subconsciously keep inside for fear of losing faith in ourselves. We’re only lucky if someone comes into our life to help us bring it to the surface. 
This someone did that for me tonight.  A good friend gave me the pleasure of reading a couple of short stories he recently wrote. And before he even finished reading the first one I found myself making detrimental decisions about the future I had envisioned for myself up until minutes before he started reading. His wisdom gave me courage to change direction. I might not end up taking that turn but at least I had the courage to think about it.

Seriously what’s wrong with ‘giving up’ on a dream we thought could’ve been our pathway to a heavenly future? It wouldn’t be my first experience to let go of something I thought I badly wanted.  Twelve years ago I needed to hear my parents tell me “it was ok to turn down a masters scholarship” before I could turn a deaf ear to everybody who thought I was insane.

When our gut feeling starts having a struggle with our ego, it means that we need to listen carefully to what our heart is trying to tell us.

Thank you my friend for the inspiration that could potentially change my life!

From the other side

I started writing this post from the living room of my grandmother’s house in Nablus overlooking a breathtaking panoramic view of what is known here as the northern mountain or Mount Ebal.

Ever since my sister and I arrived I was so eager to sit down and put on paper the beauty that my eyes and heart have captured in the past few days.

I was raised to love this city and appreciate its beauty despite all the difficulties and humiliation we used to endure while crossing the bridge. 

Every time we come to Nablus my father would take us to the old city to walk on the footsteps of his childhood. You could see the pride in his eyes and smile while telling us all the stories about his school, his father, grandfather, the family business or what was called the ‘sabbaneh’ where they used to make Nabulsi soap and tahini.  The tour would always end with a big breakfast in the old city with the rest of the family men who’d take a break from work to join the feast!

This gathering would be the only party we’d know and enjoy in Nablus.

Above: The old city
Below: View from my grandmother's kitchen

Because of the occupation everyone would go home before sunset and stay there till the next day. We weren’t allowed to look out the window or even think of going out on our own. Crossing the bridge used to take hours and when you’d think it was over you’d be welcomed by another checkpoint right outside the city making it look like a huge prison.

When we crossed a few days ago I was dreading the experience. But when my cousin started driving through Jericho I knew that this time we were going to see a different face of Palestine. We were pleasantly surprised to find out that the checkpoint outside Nablus was removed and that we can actually drive into the city without having to show any ID or walk for a mile to take a taxi from the other side.

Spring was all around. The road was greener than I’ve ever noticed. Suddenly I felt this huge anticipation to get there. The minute we drove into the city my heart dropped.  I felt like a little child so eager to get out of the car and run to my grandmother’s house.

The neighbourhood was still the same, but something was different in the air. It felt as if everything, the roads, the trees started to breath again.

The biggest surprise was the view from the living room. As the Arabic proverb says “the view adds years to your life!”

For years we’d take a peak of the mountain through tiny holes of security grilles, which my grandmother decided to remove recently as if to usher in the beginning of a new chapter in the city’s history.

Just like my grandmother, I felt the whole city got rid of its own grilles.

Though people still live under occupation they started to get a taste of what it feels like to lead a normal life.  Little things we take for granted like eating out, going to the movies or having brunch in a nice cafe, to them were major breakthroughs. 

I couldn’t believe my eyes when my cousins took us for a drive around the city. It felt like we were being introduced to Nablus for the first time. I had never in my life seen a normal Nabulsi family enjoy a nice meal or a picnic on a Friday.

We spent the rest of the trip with open jaws and nostalgic hearts. Unlike the old days, this time it was hard to say goodbye.

On the way back to Jericho I was thinking how privileged I am that I can actually see the other side with all its beauty and not only hear the sad stories that always manage to suppress the new realities that inject happiness into people’s hearts from time to time.

Sad reminder – happy memory

It’s been nine mother’s days without my mom and every year I promise myself to avoid this whole victimization, or what my sister would describe as drama that people are celebrating it with their moms and I’m not!  But I can’t help but feel sorry for myself that she’s not around.

I don’t know why this feeling doesn’t strike so powerfully on other occasions like her birthday, the anniversary of her passing, her wedding anniversary, etc. It just hits me on mother’s day when everything around me, online and offline, serves as a painful reminder of the sad reality.

I remember we used to plan for this day weeks in advance. What shall we get her? How do we use it as an opportunity to tell her how much we love her?  

As kids we used to write poetry and make cards from scratch. We used to look forward to going back home from school to surprise her with our artistic creations!  I remember as an adult I’d spend time at the flower shop choosing the best bouquet of sunflowers.

 

March used to be a happy month, full of flowers and color! I can’t say it’s a sad month now, but to me it’s got a different taste. When I’m in a low nostalgic mood, I look at March as a sad reminder of her loss. But on good days, it turns into a happy memory.

And on this occasion I decided to share all the happy memories with my mom through this slideshow that my sister put together three years ago.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLq5PJihM98

Happy Mother’s Day!

More time…

A couple of weeks ago we heard news that my grandmother wasn’t feeling well.  Though such news about any elderly approaching 90 should not come as a shock, but it did.

My grandmother is not the type that gets sick.  She has the memory and stamina of a 50-year-old. And I say that with no exaggeration…mashallah.

Ever since we got that phone call, a million thoughts cluttered my mind…all sad thoughts about life without her.

I guess regardless of the person’s age we can't imagine losing them.  And you hear comments from people like “she’s too old, you should be thankful she lived that long, etc.” But regardless, she’s a valuable human being who’s still capable of celebrating life.

I have never seen anyone who welcomes the mornings with a hug! You feel she lives every second of her mornings, starting with a prayer at the break of dawn followed by a cup of coffee. If you were half awake you’d inhale the smell of coffee while listening to her careful footsteps getting ready to recite a few verses from the Koran.

She does that until it is time to perform the midmorning prayer, which can take minutes or a whole hour.  It’s her own form of meditation, her personal time with God! It will then be time for breakfast after which her actual day starts. 

Her face is full of light! She’s all about silence inside out. I have never heard her gossip or speak ill of anybody. She can go on for hours without saying anything unless absolutely necessary.  

Simple things like calling her about a recipe or opening up to her and expect to hear a prayer or words of support before you hang up, are enough to keep you going.  

Since my mom’s passing she’s been our only pillar. She’s been our symbol of motherhood and example of a fighter who made peace with death ever since she lost two of her own children years and years ago!

I remember very clearly the morning after my mom passed away she prepared breakfast and asked us to gather around the table. It was her own way of telling us that life has to go on.

I’ve been contemplating crossing the bridge to see her but the fear of this being the final goodbye is pulling me back.  The idea of seeing her weak makes me sick. But at the same time I feel the need to go see her at home because I know that one day this house will not be the same.

I pray to God to give us more time with her. I pray he'd give us more time to consciously enjoy her presence in our life.