Just Wondering

Author: Solo Copyright © 2007
Blog: Solo Para Me
Location: Kuwait

When my heart stops beating and my brain shuts down,
When I don’t breath again or feel any pain,
When I’m covered from head to toe and don’t move a finger or a toe,
When I don’t hear people talking nor they hear me calling,
When dust surrounds me all and becomes my ceiling and wall,
When I disappear from the surface and go to a different place that is another world,
When I suddenly die without saying goodbye,

Who will weep for losing me?
Who will miss me?
Who will always remember me and never forget me?

Will my parents miss their daughter’s daily kiss?
Will my sisters forget their younger sis?
Will my friends cry bitterly for the news of their best friend’s death?
Will they tear every time they look at her pics?
Will they feel lonely after her loss?

What about people who hate me?
Or people I hate?
Will they glee at my death?
Or pray saying “God bless”?

I wonder, if . . .
There is someone who cares about me without me noticing,
Someone who’s interested in me without me knowing,
Someone who admires me without me realizing,
Or someone who loves me without me feeling?
How will he react when he finds my name listed with the dead?
Will he regret for not admitting or committing?

How will my little world be without me living in it anymore?
Without me being around people I love like before?
Who will take my place when I’m not there?
Who will sleep on my bed and hug my teddy bear?
Who will wear my clothes and touch my stuff?
Who dares?

Should I start to write my will before it’s too late?
Tell them how much I love them and if this is my fate?
Tell them that death is definite, no matter how much I hate?

I’m not for answers looking,
I’m just wondering.

Wonderful Moments Never Come Back Again

Author: Solo Copyright © 2006
Blog: Solo Para Me
Location: Kuwait

It was around 6:30 AM. I was in a deep sleep at the time. All of a sudden, I was alarmed by a loud and harsh voice that drilled my ears. “F6AIM! WAKE UP NOW AND ARRANGE YOUR ROOM BEFORE I SERVE THE BREAKFAST OR YOU’RE NOT GOING TO EAT WITH US.” I jumped out of my bed terrified. I shouted; “MY GOD! What’s that!” My parents came to my room laughing at me. “It’s your dad. He’s making us breakfast today. Yallah, come down to eat,” mom said. My dad jumped at me saying “No! You must arrange your room first.”

My room was very messy. The clothes were all over the place; some on the ground and the couch. Actually, my closet was empty. Some of my shoes were under the bed. Don’t ask me how they came under the bed. I used to even sleep in that mess. My mom usually arranged it for me, but I kept throwing my stuff here and there. What a shame! I know.

I persuaded him to eat first. “Dad! First, do parents wake up their children by yelling at them the way you just did? Poor me! You’ve freaked me out! Second, I’ve never heard in my entire life of people with straight minds arrange their room in the early morning! And third, don’t you know that breakfast is the most important meal we eat. And if I didn’t eat, I wouldn’t be able to arrange my room, right dad?” These words were convincing and affective. He smiled and let me eat breakfast with them. How kind he is.

My dad didn’t mean to punish me. And he would never do it. He has been a really good father and husband. He used to do such things even to my mom. He drove her crazy. He has always joked and played with us. We all love him.

After eating breakfast, I went to arrange my room as I promised dad. I didn’t want to do such a hard job, but I had to. I hate doing this. I asked my dad to help me with it because I couldn’t do it alone. We started with the clothes then some stuff on my desk. When dad looked under my bed to grab my shoes, he saw a big box. I used to name that box “Collections of Moments.” It contained many letters of my friends, my birthday presents and cards, my diary, some souvenirs, pictures, and my dolls that I kept since I was 7. I joined him looking at my old things in the box. Almost all of the presents that my parents gave me on my birthday were there. They were special and meant a lot to me. We spent a long time talking about them. We forgot about the room. I was really glad to have such a great conversation with my dad and I didn’t want to end it. We laughed out loud at my funny pictures of when I was a kid. I was dumpy. My mom heard us laughing and came up to know what were we laughing at. I showed her the pictures and she died laughing at them, too. That was the last moment we laughed together.

My mom wanted some vegetables for lunch. She told dad to buy some. It was 1:20 pm and dad hadn’t come home yet. Mom called him but no answer. We began to worry. The phone rang. Mom answered, “Yes, who is it?” Mom didn’t say anything about that call. She left my younger brother with me and told me that she had to go somewhere. She was in a hurry; wearing her clothes and running to the car. I started to think that something had happened to my dad since he was very late. When she came back home, she told me that she was with him in the hospital. He had a fatal car accident.

Yesterday, he was moving, walking, talking, joking and laughing with us. But today, he is completely different. It seems he’s not my dad. He is just another person. He doesn’t talk anymore. He doesn’t move a body part anymore. Is there anyway to bring that merry father back? I just want my dad back. I want him to walk with me. To jog with me. To talk to me. To joke with me. To irritate me. To shout at me. I want to hear that harsh voice again. I want it to drill my ears again. But you know what, thank God that he is still alive. At least he can see us and we can see him. And those wonderful moments have become a mirage now, and I know that they will never come back again.

I Did Not Mean It Mommy

Author: Solo Copyright © 2006
Blog: Solo Para Me
Location: Kuwait

A very long time ago, during a very cold night, streets were covered with snow. Everything was quiet outside. It was around two o’clock in the morning. I was in my bedroom, and my mom was sitting beside me on my bed. She was telling me one of her wonderful stories. As usual, I slept before the end of the story.

I opened my little eyes to see if she was still there, but I didn’t find her. I got up to look for her. There was a light coming from the living room. I walked toward it. It was mom sitting on her rocking chair in front of the fireplace knitting something, but I couldn’t see what it was exactly. My mom is an amazing knitter; she learned how to knit since she was fifteen. I did not want to interrupt her, so I stayed alert watching her closely continuing. She was using red and white threads. She was very fast; moving the needles and the threads around her finger. I just couldn’t follow her. Within minutes she finished it. It was a beautiful sweater but small in size. I wasn’t short in stature at that time. I was a little bit tall although I was only four and a half years old.

I came to her, kissed her and asked, “You made it for me? Thank you, I love you mommy. I love you.” My mom looked at me smiling “Oh, sweetie you’re awake! Well, I made you a beautiful sweater last night, didn’t you see it in your closet? This one is going to be for the baby,” she was pointing her finger toward her belly. “Mommy! What baby? You have another baby?” I surprisingly asked. She responded “I have it here, but it has not come out yet.” I angrily said “No! No! This is for me, NOT for the baby.”

My mom tried to convince me, “No dear, this is small and it doesn’t fit you. But you know what, I’ll make you another one tomorrow, ok?” I cried and yelled “No! I hate you mommy, I really hate you …” I kicked her belly where the baby was. I ran to my room crying.

Then, I heard mom groaning “Oh! Oh! God help me!” I came to her and found her on the floor bleeding heavily. Her hand was on her belly and she was shaking. I stepped backward to the wall looking at her. I was shocked. I had never seen that much blood before. Mom couldn’t talk anymore. “Oh! Ah! Aw!” were the only words that she was saying.

My mom and I were alone that day. My dad was at work (he had a night shift). I was scared and didn’t know what to do, so I ran away. I went out of the house and sat on the doorstep crying.

There was a couple living in a house in front of us. They were awake, so they heard me crying outside. They came to me and tried to find out why was I crying and sitting alone in such cold weather. I said “Mommy is sick!” They took me and entered our house to see my mom. They found her in the same position as I left her, and still bleeding. The wife called her stepmother. She was an old woman who knew what to do in such situations. She came immediately. My mom was in pain. She couldn’t stand that severe pain. They didn’t let me stay with her, so I went to my room, waiting.

My mom finally delivered her baby, but there was something wrong. I heard her screaming loudly, “No! Please don’t say that! My baby is alive not dead, my baby is alive …!” She kept saying that hysterically. The old woman tried to calm her down because it seemed that my mom was having a nervous breakdown. I was scared to death. That was the first time I had ever heard my mom screaming.

The old woman wrapped the little body with a white cloth and put it on the table in the living room. She took my mom to her bedroom. The couple and the old woman stayed with us waiting for my dad to tell him about the bad news. I got out of my room to see what happened to my mom. I noticed a bloodstained cloth on the table. My curiosity pushed me to it. I walked toward the table, closer and closer. There was a very small foot sticking out of the cloth. I figured out that it was the baby that my mom told me about. I touched its little toe and kissed it. It had smooth silky skin. I tried to remove the cloth to see its face, but the old woman came and took it away from me. I asked her, “Why is the baby not crying?” She didn’t say a word.

I recalled everything that happened before that incident occur and perceived that the baby died because I hurt my mom and kicked her on her belly. I went to my parents’ room. I saw her lying on her bed. I came to her with tearing eyes and lay beside her. I kissed her on her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry! I did not mean it mommy!”