12.10.07
As we go on…
Assalam Alaikum Wa Rahmatullah
You know how people say that the pain goes away with time? It doesn’t, at least not for me. The only thing that happens is that my mind blocks the memories of Asma, so that I’m not crying all the time. But there are so many times that I can’t block those memories or when I don’t WANT to block those memories. Some of these times are when I watch my brothers interact with one another.
Sometimes I get jealous of my brothers. They have each other. I mean, I have them too, but it’s just different. They grew up together. They were the trio and Asma and I were the pair. They still have each other, but I don’t have Asma. They borrow each other’s clothing, but Asma and I can’t. They borrow each other’s shoes, but Asma and I can’t. I miss the countless hours we’d spend in our room, just playing.
And lately, whenever I buy something to eat at school, I think about how I would ALWAYS make sure Asma ate it as well. She’d do the same for me. And we’d both share with our mom. If either of us got chocolate or lollipops or anything else, we would ask for an extra “for my sister.” If they didn’t give us an extra, then we’d share that one food product. So a couple of days ago, as I was eating the peanut M&Ms I bought, those memories were nagging me. Then I realized I hadn’t shared with my mom for a long time so I went downstairs and gave it to her. I told (reminded) her of how we’d (Asma & my mom & I) always share….it was one of the rare times that I have ever spoken about Asma in front of my family. Then my mom told me to come closer and she hugged and kissed me. Right after that, I left because I knew if I stayed, we would both cry.
I rarely ever speak about Asma in front of them because I know if I do, I might break down. They often speak about her and the atmosphere suddenly gets very depressing, so I usually go do something or go to a different part of the house. I avoid eye contact because I know that every one of those faces talking about Asma will be painful to look at. You know what else? Ever since Asma passed away, neither my mom or dad have laughed the way they used to laugh. Sure, they’ll still laugh out loud, but I can hear that there’s something missing in their laughter. Even during Asma’s illness, their laughter changed. That was mainly due to stress and worry, but now it’s due to emptiness.
=(
