Paria a doting wife from So California:


Grief had permeated the entire house, manifested by the somber music that was being played last week.  As I was wiping off my tears with the back of my hand, the doorbell rang.  I quietly approached the door, I was flabbergasted and was about to scream when I saw Darab after I opening the door.  His habitual smile calmed me down but I could not believe it.  I began shaking all over, my mouth got dry, because Darab, my husband, had journeyed to eternity two weeks prior.  Now, Darab embraced me and said, “I was not expecting your frightened reaction from a brave woman like you.”
It took a while for me to realize the words were coming from his own lips. I took him to the dining room, I just sat like a wax statue on the couch with him, while the color drained from his face.  Surprisingly enough, the TV was casting the same old TV entertainment serial that we used to watch every weekend.  Darab’s laugh filled the house.  I caught his eye for a moment and felt quite good.  He looked away from me and cast his eyes downward.  After a short pause, Darab asked me if I could remember how bizarre it was when we had spent some six months at a refugee camp like prisoners of war in Austria?  Do you remember when our adorable daughter first began babbling while we both showered her with kisses?  I closed my eyes and tried to pinpoint telltale signs of trouble from those years.  But I could find none.  I just saw Darab’s hand covering my long elegant fingers, during those years.  Such a doting husband to me that from the early days, I had put him on a pedestal.  He was a very deep and very trusting person who always looked for the good in the people.  I just stared at him with a wide smile on my face.  He continued to ask, if I remembered that night when we were still wandering in Lahore, Pakistan and I was not able to breast feed our son due to starvation and a good Samaritan helped us to overcome our ordeal and suffering?  Then we got up holding hands and went straight to the dresser where our family pictures had been laid in date order.  He pointed to a photo of our first year of marriage and said, “This picture is reminiscent of those sad days when my father flew to heaven at the same time your nice’ mother drifted into eternity.  Then he focused on another picture of our daughter, Mitara, taken on her first day of school.  Do you remember the lullaby time when you and our daughter kept talking about her homework and I began yelling to let me go to sleep?  Darab kept talking and I tried to pinpoint those years when we both had begun to work so hard and finally our life shifted into high gear due to our honesty and having great faith in family life.  I had a vivid memory of those years that we both were the savior of our friends and families.  We both spared nothing from them and eventually Darb’s two cousins graduated from college and became a dentist and a computer engineer.   They always were full of gratitude and appreciation to both of us.  They hung our pictures on the wall of their home as their savior and mentors.  Darb reminded me about once when we had taken a trip to Dubai to visit our family, who had gone out there from Iran.  They called us a role model for the whole family.  Then I remembered a time when I had found a lump, while taking a shower, I did not know much about breast cancer and I thought it was just a fatty lump.  With the help of Darab I was diagnosed early and got the treatment I needed.  I was also lucky because my inner circle of family was supportive.  Now Darab kept asking if I remembered our daughter’s appearance in the high school honor roll roster and  she managed to become the top student across the state with her awards and her commendations that had decorated our home?  And how Darab and I hit the road, heading to Mitra’s college where we found her sipping her coffee in a snug corner while a cloud of sadness could be read on her innocent face.  Then that afternoon we stopped by our son Reza’s school, he was walking in a slow pace to his junk car.  He had been so overwhelmed with his own thoughts, that he did not pay any attention while I was waving to him.  Soon after that, Darab and I drifted into a nearby coffee shop and started sipping our own hot coffee.  By that point, we had just pinpointed briefly our life and how hard we had worked together to stay in our luxurious cocoon with our two children.  How great they were in their curriculum.  What great respect we got from everyone as the two good Samaritans.  At home with Darb, the lights of our children’s rooms were still on.  Mitra’s kitty sat gazing out the nearby window.  When I turned the key on the door and went inside, I was alone.  It seemed as though Darab had already flown in a flash.  Mitra came out of the kitchen and I held her so tight and close while my son, Vafa, hugged me and her sister.  “I am so proud of you guys. You both really valued our efforts and endeavors.” I told them.  After my children were gone to sleep I returned to dining room and stared at the television.  How the dining room still smells of the scent of my dear deceased husband.  Though he is not physically present in my life, I can always sense his pure and pretty soul along with me.