Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Translating Written Fate

When I first found out mama has cancer, I thought yep that's my curse, god taking away my most favorite thing in the world, I must have been such a bad person. I started looking for the things I did wrong for me to deserve this. 

As I walked down the journey with her in every second, I saw doors opening, souls connecting, gratefulness was at its best. I wondered where is my curse? This actually feels good. Its making me love more, forgive more, worry less. This brought the best of me. As the ladies at the funeral house put on the protective plastic apron and gloves & asked me to start washing her. I knew at that moment why mama always wanted to look strong infront of us؛ her children. I never want my kids to see me like that. Its just so heart breaking and makes you dead to your core. I hear of people screaming and crying for her loss and all I think; but they haven't seen her last days. The most horrible days of our life. 

Things became clearer everyday. I loved her chemo infusions in New York,  while we waited every other Wednesday for her blood test to come out we would sneak to Pret-a-manager next door for quick breakfast, then we are back for chemo. Chemo was a good thing, it gave her a chance to live longer. It angers me the stereo type of government conspiracies about chemo, those who say it most probably never had a cancer patient in the family so they don't know how it works. I always wished in my heart that I can shush anyone telling me chemo was a lie. 

I loved the long drives between Abu Dhabi & Alain 
Believe the doctors, believe the science. God made us in this earth to educate ourselves. He has put this knowledge in doctors for us to reason things. And balance between faith and science. 

Mama always made a joke about anything she saw. I get that from her. I like to imitate and make voices, that funny spark to any conversation. We were very easy going with the people around us. 

My mom is a precious memory, I will protect it deep inside my heart where I control what I see and I feel. This is my mom, my thoughts and my memories. 

To me you are a song I don't know how to sing 
A poem I don't know how to read. 


Friday, April 28, 2017

That Girl with a Broken Arm

The idea is sinking in, and it freaks me out. 

How can I live after you!? Who will I tell my daily stories, who will listen to my vents? 

Who shall I say their jokes after them? 

You're leaving me with memories. And I need more. I need more of you. Of your support and love and most of all acceptance. 


I'm very selfish right now. Can you blame me mama? 

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Salam, my name is Layla. Shalom, my name is Lilly

We met in between the corridors of New York Presbatryan hospital in cold February 2017. Both of us emerging into our 30's taking care of our mama's who both battle cancer. And to add to the coincidence the same type.

I saw a mirror image of myself standing in front of me. At the same time we were so different, language, identity & faith. Yet, I felt so connected to her.

How could the universe be so powerful, so gentle.

I felt it was telling me: hey you are not alone here! A girl like you is doing the same thing.


.A little thought I wrote as a a tribute to Lilly's mom who passed away on 28.02.2017