A Love Story
Once upon a time, around the 1960’s, a young woman working in New York met the man of her dreams. He was dashing, educated in Princeton, and was madly in love with her. She is a petite sweet intelligent lady and together they lived in the city of their dreams, away from their own country that was at war.
They had two children – a daughter who is so much like her mother and a son who is just like his father. They probably went through the usual ups and downs of families – especially of raising kids in the city but anyone who had met them will guarantee that these were well-bred children who were level headed, respectful, loving and smart.
And the couple continued to grow in love. She stayed in New York for work while he often traveled and stayed away for work-related assignments. Absences rarely caused bumps in their relationship. And she has assured the cynic that distance is only physical; true love defies miles.
Early last year, the mother was overwhelmed with the arrangements for her daughter’s wedding. And like a regular mom, she returned to work with many pictures to share to everyone. The son followed suit and was married this year. She continues to talk about them with so much pride and her husband, with much love and always giddy, like a teenager. The children were the rewards of a life they had struggled through - to keep in Ivy League universities and to instill the values of their culture.
The husband was now relaxed. The responsibilities with the children were done, there is money in the bank, they have retirement waiting to be claimed soon. He dreamed about taking his wife back to their country now in the infant stages of democracy and maybe travel the world in leisure.
This was suppose to be a story of ‘happily ever after’ but it isn’t.
On the 4th of July weekend the husband suffered his first heart attack. His wife and the children, who kept their homes a few blocks away from their parents, rushed him to hospital. He survived, was brought home and for a while he was doing well. Until last week when he had another attack, this time fatal. He was just 55.
She is broken. The funeral was held on Friday and she was inconsolable. The friends she and her husband had collected through the years were grief stricken just to see her. She held on tightly to the hands of her daughter who will bear them their first grandchild next month. She had lost the sparkle in her eyes and she had not spoken to anyone. Her children were worried, she had been refusing life as well since he had been untimely taken away from them. And there seem to be no words to ease the pain.
They have lived their lives as a piece of each other. How do you find a way to step back into a life as you had known it alone?
To my dear Saeeda, I do not have the answers but I know that you will find life again. In spirit he will urge you on. And you will realize that love never ends. His love will make you smile again – in the vignettes of memories that you had shared, in the future that he may have missed but with you he will continue to live.
They had two children – a daughter who is so much like her mother and a son who is just like his father. They probably went through the usual ups and downs of families – especially of raising kids in the city but anyone who had met them will guarantee that these were well-bred children who were level headed, respectful, loving and smart.
And the couple continued to grow in love. She stayed in New York for work while he often traveled and stayed away for work-related assignments. Absences rarely caused bumps in their relationship. And she has assured the cynic that distance is only physical; true love defies miles.
Early last year, the mother was overwhelmed with the arrangements for her daughter’s wedding. And like a regular mom, she returned to work with many pictures to share to everyone. The son followed suit and was married this year. She continues to talk about them with so much pride and her husband, with much love and always giddy, like a teenager. The children were the rewards of a life they had struggled through - to keep in Ivy League universities and to instill the values of their culture.
The husband was now relaxed. The responsibilities with the children were done, there is money in the bank, they have retirement waiting to be claimed soon. He dreamed about taking his wife back to their country now in the infant stages of democracy and maybe travel the world in leisure.
This was suppose to be a story of ‘happily ever after’ but it isn’t.
On the 4th of July weekend the husband suffered his first heart attack. His wife and the children, who kept their homes a few blocks away from their parents, rushed him to hospital. He survived, was brought home and for a while he was doing well. Until last week when he had another attack, this time fatal. He was just 55.
She is broken. The funeral was held on Friday and she was inconsolable. The friends she and her husband had collected through the years were grief stricken just to see her. She held on tightly to the hands of her daughter who will bear them their first grandchild next month. She had lost the sparkle in her eyes and she had not spoken to anyone. Her children were worried, she had been refusing life as well since he had been untimely taken away from them. And there seem to be no words to ease the pain.
They have lived their lives as a piece of each other. How do you find a way to step back into a life as you had known it alone?
To my dear Saeeda, I do not have the answers but I know that you will find life again. In spirit he will urge you on. And you will realize that love never ends. His love will make you smile again – in the vignettes of memories that you had shared, in the future that he may have missed but with you he will continue to live.