My mother's Diary,

My mother's Diary,

Dear Diary,

I can't believe this. I just cried over my Son. Don't

get me wrong, I love him and all, but I didn't think I'd be so upset when he

left here. In fact, I was looking forward to inheriting his old bedroom.

Well, guess what? I was wrong. What else is new?

My son left this morning, bright and early. I helped him pack the last of his

things into his old beat up bus with the bumper sticker I bought him. "Gone

crazy, be back in 5 minutes." Then, he said goodbye and gave me a hug after promising to visit at next Norooz. & ..

I was crying as he hopped into the

bus and drove away into the distance. I watched and waved until he was nothing

more than a speck. He was on his way to a far-off land also known as the Capital.

As soon as he was out of sight, I ran into the house and upstairs to my bedroom.

I flopped onto my bed, buried my face in my pillow and started crying. Soon,

tears turned into sobs and sobs turned into uncontrollable sobs and before I

knew it, I was bawling beyond all repair.

All I could think about were all the times we spent together and how,

now that he is gone, we can't have that anymore. No more watching sitcoms and

music videos together. No more jamming on the piano together. No more weird

discussions about Junks.

Then, I thought about all the times that we could've spent together, but didn't,

and now I'm regretting that I didn't cherish my Son as much as I

should've. I'm finally starting to feel grateful that he is a part of my life

and now...well, he's not a part of my life. Okay, so he still is, but that's not

much of a help when he's thousands of miles away!

He's not going to get to see any more of my Flowrs. He won't see me get retired. Sure, it will

probably be a cashier at a fast food place, but everyone has to start somewhere!

He won't be here to see me learn how to bring up and help me & ... to me, that's sad.

Sincerely,

Naghshedel Boghrat.

15/3/1382

Dear Diary,

Today I went to a funeral for a second cousin's son once removed...

Something like that. I didn't even meet him. I was expecting this guy to be maybe 30 or something, but when we

arrived at the Funeral Home for visitation, I was shocked to find out that this

boy couldn't have been any older than about 18!

I later found out that this young man was killed in a car

accident. He had just recently received his driver's license and was going to

pick up his date for a school when he was hit by a Truck driver. It wasn't

an instant death, he was taken to the hospital, but nothing could be done. He

died in his hospital bed about two hours after the accident, surrounded by his

family which, to my horror, included a younger Mother about my age.

The funeral ceremony was beautiful, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the

poor Mother that had lost his nice son to a truck driver. A stupid, careless

puck,truck driver who took the life of an innocent, teenage boy. That thought alone

gave me a pang in my heart, but what really got to me was my son hadn't left

but a few weeks before the accident and how I was being such a major crybaby

about that when so many other people had even worse problems.

Tears blurred my vision as the pallbearers carried the casket to the hearse that

would take the body to the cemetery to be buried. We had a Black flag placed

on our bus, and then we slowly drove to the cemetery behind the vehicle carrying

his body and all the other cars on their way to see a loved one buried. Those

other cars included a Mother who had just lost her son at age 42. Sure,

I had lost my son, but I was suddenly overcome with joy that my son was

driving a white bus when he left, and not being taken in a casket to the

cemetery in a black car. Suddenly, I was glad that my family didn't have to put

a black flag on our car when my son left.

Despite the fact that phone calls and mails, I'm glad I have that much communication with

my son. At least I have Norooz and other hoildays with my son. But this poor family does not.

I miss my Son more than words can describe, but the pain I'm

feeling can't even begin to compare with what this poor Mother is feeling

right now.

I now know the distance between isthmus and the capital.

I was ungreatful.

I ask God now for his forgiveness.

I ask God to have mercy upon me  when  my trace is cut off  from the world,

I pray for all my sisters and brothers. For each and every family member in their households.

Sincerely,

Naghshedel boghrat.