My Diary

For some people writing comes naturally and they produce exemplary writings. and for some they have to be motivated to write or their pain goes beyond their own capacity to bear. I am probably from the second  group. As far as I can recall my paragraphs have come out when I go through extreme pain. and this is usually in the middle of the night, when I wake up for no reason and start scribbling.  Hear I will be posting feelings I experience with a loss of a loved one, I may be able to help someone bare the pain.
Feeling hurt and seeing everyone around me in the same state probably takes me to my  writing instrument. I have noticed as far as I recall all these writings are on a piece of paper which is not a note book. Usually it is scrap of paper, a card box of cookies toothpaste or just a brown bag torn open to become my canvas.. These small paragraphs usually get lost in the stack of things and are retrieved one day by luck. When I read them again I notice the strike out lines and up and below arrows which would definitely make the readers eye going up and down the text or tilt the paper landscape, portrait or upside down with circled number referencing connecting parts of the body to the small text lines somewhere else on the paper.
Those who have minds that connect too many incidents and events simultaneously will understand what I mean. Such document needs a master mind to read the matter an follow its continuity.
First such writing was when I lost my father and I could see my siblings around me as helpless as I was, All I was missing was how my dad helped me come out of many complexes I experienced at various stages of my life. My youngest was 4 years old at that time and shared my fathers birthday. I started looking at my son as my father and when I go through pain I cry on his shoulder. His Shoulders were as strong as my fathers but this time it is different. Come to look at Zahids departure from our lives, my husband turned 70 this year and my self 62. but my boys are 33, 32 and 24 respectively. Zahid was 28.  Had he lived, how long did we have to be with him, that would have been approx one fourth of the time my children would have spent with him....
Our relationship with Zahid was vertical, he respected us very much and we enjoyed his dynamic personality and felt proud of him. Looking at his relationship with his brothers in this context was horizontal which had a wider arena and more concentration at the same level of understanding as the sharing was effortless and bonding was very strong we were only looking at them from above as parents but the real fun and sharing was taking place down there starting from zero point  and slowly building layer by layer. as they grew.
There were times when the view from top was not very clear, as there was steam build up and there was a layer of cloud, even then we were content because we knew the bonding down there is strong; I would just shuffle my feathers and make the dust and cloud scatter and making the view clear, my stars began shining just the way I saw the stars shining in the sky in the Desert of Thar in Mithi. I could see the shiniest star of them all, blinking at me and saying "Hey mom look at me here I am", Yes I could see my son shining and happy.
 Welcome to Zahid Suleman Memon Children s Library II, Mithi, Tharpaarker.
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