The 19th of March.

The 19th of March.

Every year this date comes around and every year I’m reminded of all of the years I’ve spent without her.  

It feels like just yesterday we were dancing around the living room to Frank Sinatra and Sam Cooke and Tina Turner.  We were fighting over how the smell of bleach when she would clean the house on Saturday mornings would wake me up.  We were laughing.  We were going on long drives in the car and she was forcing me to drive by my crush’s house.  I was was eagerly awaiting the sound of the garage door that indicated she was home.  

I was content. I was happy. I was home.

Then… March 19, 2004.

I was watching a lifeless version of my mother take her last breaths.  I was staring at her bright pink fingernails.  I was panicking about how I could ever live my life without a mother.  

I was praying.  I was begging. I was crying. 

And just like that, she was gone.

I was calling her voicemail to hear her voice on the answering machine.  I was missing the way her hands looked, the sound of her spoon in her coffee cup, her giggle.  I was sitting in her closet just to smell her.  

I was scared.  I was alone.  I was devestated.

Now… March 19, 2018.

I’m waking up at 2 am to look at pictures of her face because I miss her.  I’m jealous of every interaction between a woman and her mother.  I’m recalling stories with my grandma trying to make sense of it all.  I’m on the other side of the world missing her.  I have grown up, missing her.  

I’m still praying.  I’m still crying.  I’m still scared.  I’m still alone.

Alhamdulilah, I’m so blessed to have had her for a minute or for a day, but it was the biggest loss of my life.  Everything in my life changed in an instant and it seemed like everyone else’s lives moved on.  But mine, mine was never the same.  

I haven’t felt “home” since she died. “Home” is her tickling my hands so that I would fall asleep. "Home" is her making shadow puppets on the ceiling named Froggy and Sissy.  I think “home” is your mother’s heart.

I know she would have been so proud of all that I have done and accomplished and this “unique” life I live, but having her here would make all of these achievements even sweeter.  

I promise you, any good quality you see in me, came from her.  And any bad quality you see in me, came from me.

I would do anything to turn back time and have one more day together, but I can’t.  Instead I will encourage you to treasure, value, and love your mothers.  Not only encourage... I will pray for it.  I will beg for it.  I will cry for it.  

“Know that myself, God, and all of the angels are walking with you.  Then, you never need to feel alone.  There’s nothing in life we can’t conquer, and I promise to help you - forever.”