Category: Uncategorized

“No More Ideas.”

That’s what one of them screams at the other. I see him building a tower. “Give me my tower back.” “No I’m trying to fix it.” “I’m just doing one idea and then I’ll give it back.” “No” “no more idea” just give it back.” “Mom, Dawud is having too many ideas.” “What’s wrong with having too many ideas?” I ask. “Because if two ideas are in the same room they clash. And then I have to keep fixing his idea and he has to keep fixing mine. Just stop him from having his ideas in this room. Send him out”.

“NO. Mine are always the bestest ideas”, Dawud responds, calm as a clam. “You know that.” Adam reaches over and puts an Elephant smack in the middle of Dawud’s structure. That took all the patience, all the calm right out of Dawud. “NOBODY EVER STOP ME! THIS IS MY ZOO, AND IT DOESN’T HAVE ANY ELEPHANTS.” He pushes Adam.

That’s my cue to put my coffee down and get up. After all Adam did start the zoo. It was initially his idea to start making one. Actually no. I gave them the idea so I could have my coffee in peace. No more ideas!

Hero. I hear this word so much. Heroism! Sounds so big and un-doable for a mortal being. My own children play super hero and bad guy games. In those games it is absolutely necessary for someone to be poked or banged or kicked. Be it the good guys or the bad guys. They are still young so they have not yet discovered the more extreme ways of hurting a “bad guy”. They are my off spring so, they will learn all of it fast and soon whether I want them to or not.

If you asked them the definition of a superhero or even just a hero they will tell you that it’s a person that”saves” you or “protects” you. They’re correct about that.
I’ve met heroes in my life. Heroes to me are people who make you smile, people who give you a reason to get up in the morning. Although by this definition even they are heroes just because they exist.
That sun. The sun shining: That is certainly another hero wouldn’t you say? Or it’s a bad guy, depending on the kind of minute you are having.
We were talking about people though. I have come across so many unsung heroes lately. The definition of heroism has changed for me. Maybe it hasn’t changed. I’ve just realized it’s important to honor those who are worth honoring before they’re gone from our presence.
Also, sort of hint people…get to it, why don’t you?
We had a great tragedy in the family recently. Anyone and everyone who knows us even a little bit knows all about it. We lost our very beloved son, nephew, brother, cousin and everything else. In his wake we found courage, never-ending bonds and heroes. Oh so many strong and such beautiful heroes.

People talk at length about him and what a beautiful soul he was. He surely was. He is. He is that. He is our wonderful, beautiful Zayd and he will always be that.
But this is not a tribute to him. This is a tribute to his beautiful companions who grew up with him. Who watched him and played with him. Had their lives tied with his. They spent their days and nights with him. They were hoping to grow old with him. They had mapped it all out. They had already imagined their kids playing in the backyard together. They were planning on living together as friends, siblings, and colleagues.

They were planning his wedding. Excited about meeting his new bride, their sister-in-law. His death turned everything upside down not just us but for them too. We focus on the parents but the burden they bear is probably greater if not the same.

Those young adults saw themselves through their parents’ eyes probably for the first time as young boys and girls.

For the first time they probably realized what it’s like to be so fragile and mortal yet they stood strong for everyone else. They stood like mountains in the face of waves crashing on them. They stayed. They cried, mourned, screamed, yet they stayed because they knew that this is what all of us needed.

The strength they showed gave their elders (that’s us) strength, and believe it or not, a certain peace. We knew that they could do it. If they can handle today, if they can cry, and smile, and hold our hand, and hug us today while standing tall for each other as well?

Then, well I think that is it. I think they have made it in this world. Because that strength is the key to making it in the other world and this world comes and it goes, real fast. But you already knew that.

We tell stories of Bilal Mustafa and his wife Anam Qadri. What they did when they lost their little brother. However, the stories of heroism started when he was born and they will go on until he lives. He has been strong-willed and gotten his way in a world that did not make it easy for him. He has turned into a kind young man who does not turn away from a challenge and he does not leave his family behind. When I think of that boy I think of strength, courage and loyalty.

We all wondered about the person he was marrying and we worried because, “oh gosh, the boy is bringing a girl home, am I right?” No. This woman in her own right has taught us all what it means to love and support an entire broken down family. I don’t know if I would have been capable of doing it.

Hafsa Mustafa, she hates the spotlight. Yeah she’s hiding behind the couch right now reading this. She hates it but I also know how hard it is to give it up. Yet, she gives it up every time we have to welcome a new member of the family. Every time we have to let a young one grow up and make room for them to be an adult and her space is taken over a bit. She welcomes everyone with a smile, and an open heart. She’s the quiet guide, and caretaker who never get’s noticed. Like the background music that calms and soothes, however you can never put your finger on what’s really putting you in such a pleasant mood. It’s not the drugs she’s putting in your drink. I promise!

When Hasan Mustafa got married that was the biggest example of her being a welcoming host and a wonderful sister-in-law to Hasan’s new bride.

Although Hasan doesn’t really need the spotlight: He’s happy lurking in the shadows, mostly because he’s pretending to be Batman. Bilal would like to claim that status and would be annoyed if his name doesn’t get mentioned somewhere where Batman is mentioned, so there you go buddy. Back to topic…Hasan is NOT Batman. He likes to be there for people and do things for people solely for the sake of God. We comprehend life through our experiences. Through what we have seen and understood about it. He has understood that people need to be love and taken care of. He is a better man than I is all I have to say about that.

Oh and Ayesha Belal that exceptional young woman he’s married to, is beyond words. First of all; because she has to live with my nephew obviously; second and more importantly because she came into our family and that was it, she stayed there. It was not a, “hi nice to meet you, now we have to go home.” She came and rested in our hearts. She is not just a part of him she is a part of this family. She laughs with us and she grieves with us. She holds us together like any family member would.

All and all those two crazy boys did well. Like heroes would. I don’t eve know if Batman has such good luck with women. Doubt it.

And then there was one. One, right? Yeah but she doesn’t impact like just one so I have to count. Is there only one Hamna Mustafa? She knows what people need and when they need it. She can read peoples hearts. It’s a quality only a few posses. And even fewer use like she does. She has ignored her needs many a times to tend to others. I am sure you have seen those scenes from super hero movies where the hero says, “I have to go my people need me” and then they fly away? Yeah that’s her. That’s Hamna, only, way less dramatic and without the flying, and coolness. Bottom line: she’s super girl.

This post happened only because Zayd Mustafa is always talked about and honored. I needed everyone to realize that we have heroes among us who are doing heroic things every day, and they are going to keep doing them whether they get the praise or not. I hope we get to tell each and every one of them how great they are. I hope we get to encourage them and help them achieve more. I know they are capable of so much more.

Some day when we are not with our loved ones we depart without any guilt that we didn’t tell them those superheroes have got nothing on you. Also, that we can be proud of ourselves for a bunch of badasses. I am not completely there yet; mine are still cooking. Nevertheless, I would still like to take some credit for these wild creatures too.

Fly Safe you guys and don’t smash too many buildings!

Dropped my phone today under a desk. Bumped my head while trying to pick up that phone. You’d think it’s a scene out of a movie: some nerd girl who bumps into everything and drops everything, everywhere, all the time. Later she would turn into a beautiful lady swan or something. Nope, it’s just a regular day at the doctor’s office. I kid you not, I did all these things and a few more which, I would like to not discuss. I am sure the doctor and his nurse were thinking, “How do you not see that the desk is right there when you bent down to pick up the phone?” Well, that’s just what I do. I don’t calculate, I just bump into things or walk into them.

Okay fine, Ill write down the rest. Within the span of 20 minutes I discovered a stain on my scarf, which I tried to scratch off with my nail. Didn’t work, ended up chipping off a part of my nail in the process. Then I tried to cross my legs like proper people do. BIG FAIL. Somehow, I didn’t realize a piece of cloth had gotten stuck in the handle of the chair and that kept my leg from crossing completely so I was in a leg-crossing limbo for a bit. Not a swanlike position at all. My doctor was acting like he was typing on the computer, but I suspect he was done by that time was just pretending to type to give me time to “gather” myself.
There is no chance of me turning into a beautiful non-nerdy coolness of something or the other. Also most of these fantastical movies don’t have a 40 something crazy lady as the central character.
ALSO…why don’t they? We need love too. I mean I could have met a handsome man with a reasonable amount of tattoos and a liking for exotic foods and coffee, in that dungy old doctor’s office where everything stunk. Okay that was oddly and dangerously specific, even for my thoughts I suppose.
If, I wasn’t already married of course, and wasn’t preoccupied with the thoughts of making it home in time for dinner to feed the kids.
However, if all of those factors were not there and I was just another 40 year old I would make a great heroin for a movie.
The possibilities are endless.

I am, however 40…ummm…something…married or not…children or not, possibilities it seems are kind of not endless. They tell us 40 is the new 30. Yeah, well, tell that to my aching back buddy. It screams like a lot like a 40 year old. This was not supposed to be a dud of a post for once. I was supposed to write an uplifting funny piece about being an awkward 40 something. It turns out there isn’t a whole lot funny about being an awkward 40 year old.

No, wait there is something really fun about me. My kids love rocking out with me to old music. They don’t know yet that their mom is absolutely uncool, and is making them dance to totally uncool stuff. So, they ask me to put on Uncle Kracker and some other stuff that shall remain unidentified. We dance (to our heart’s desires) to the beats of my sons’ drums, which are imaginary and absolutely mesmerizing. So, weather you would know it from seeing me today or not; a couple of kindergarteners know I can still rock it.

For now that’s all the handsome I need.
 

 

 

 

 

Have you peeked out of your window today? It's a nice day for a change where I am; not as hot as it usually is. You can even open your door and look your neighbors’ way if you can be so bold. Not in a creepy stalker way, because-no-don't do that. Just in "how's your day going?" Way.  I'll admit I have not done that in God knows how long. I'm not known for my social skills. You have read the news today? We have neighbors across little windows and doors that are opening and shutting all the time. Have you looked through those?

Reaching out is hard. It's easier to stay where we are. Those scars, and bruises I keep talking about? The ones that are loud enough for the whole world to see, and hear? Ironically enough some of those are almost invisible. There are some that you can only see and hear if you get really close and sit in silence. Then there are some, they come across waves of oceans and break every seal and boundary there is.
Is it not clear what I'm talking about? This big old world filled with so much pain…so much screaming. Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night thinking it was your child that was bleeding? Did you ever just for a second wonder what it feels like to watch your loved one drift away at sea while you watch helpless? But then you look up and realize that it's just a casual Sunday at the beach and they are safe. They are just splashing in the water.
Everything is well, all the bruises and pain is hidden.
The moments pass away but that missed beat, that moment when you thought it was you who was losing something…*that* stays with you. Doesn't it? You will never get that heartbeat back. We will never get the loss back. How much more has to be lost? How many more heartbeats have to stop?
 

Internal scars are much worse they tell me. Yeah I have many of those just like everyone else. They are still burning bright. So bright that I am blinded by them sometimes.
In the loneliness of knowing that we are all on our own I guess we can wear our scars as war wounds with pride. That is also what they tell me. In the midst of all the knowledge that is imparted on people like you and me who have so much to gain from all of this we forget that sometimes there is nothing left to lose. We think there is-but really if you think hard enough everything around us starts to disappear and it's just us in our light. That bright bright light.

Although, what about the scars that are visible? What about those people? Those situations when scars are so visible that you can't even believe that they are yours anymore.
You walk around with them like foreign objects on your body. You wonder if you could just scratch them off you? Or just slice it off like a piece of rotten meat? Yeah, those. You know what I'm talking about. If one of you haven't experienced it yourself, you've seen those on someone else. Haven't you? I have.
Rotten meat. Rotting everything around it from inside out.
We all have our definition of what makes it really bad and what is just a little eh. But there are Look around you, you will know the difference.
Now I will get to what I'm trying to say to my readers and most of all to myself. Let's try to help. Let's try to be there. Let's try to be mindful. Let's try to look around in the world for those who are burning and crying. Some are loud and some are quiet but sure enough, they are all looking for us. The scars visible and burning bright. Let's not let them rot anymore. We owe it to ourselves to at least try to help because we know how the scars feel. One way or the other…we know.

Love of all things human is a curious paradox. We ignore people that are right in front of our eyes. Those that we want and value and run after the most. All of a sudden, we are consumed with that one we don't have that we were not supposed to have since they are gone. But what about those thousands and millions of people that we DO have?
We lose loves, people, and objects we care about because we are so consumed with something we lost that was not ours to begin with.

Photographer: Jurvetson

So let's keep ignoring and taking for granted the ones that are here; day in day out in the pits burning in hell for us while we don't even give a second look to them. So let's just keep wondering what could have, would have been while we have all these wonderful things that are happening right in front of our eyes that we are letting pass by.
Let's keep doing all that, let's see how many we find standing by our sides because everyone has someone else who can give them something we cannot.
I know, I for one am tired of being second in line. It may be human nature to want what has been lost. It's also human nature to know that you've got something special and sometimes you've just gotta hold on tight because nothing lasts forever.
No one knows that better than me.
Holding is not my best quality. I intend to take this lesson to heart.
Time to ride the wave…High.

Let's talk about who is right and who is wrong. Let's talk about what we need to do in order to succeed in this world. What is the right thing to do? What is the proper way of living? Surely someone must know. Surely someone must have cracked the code.
Then I enter a room full of people piercing me with their eyes, telling me what is wrong with me. People who think they have figured out the secret of life. People who know how to live the perfect life and now they are ready to impart their wisdom on me.
This is the secret to life; everything that you are not, and they are. If only we understood it, this crazy world would make so much more sense; it would be so much more peaceful.
Don't you think?
I think so.
I stop. Look around. Do you see what this is? Do you understand it the way others understand it? Everyone understands it differently. Is it not true that my reality and my truth is different then yours. Then how can it be that my life's purpose is the same as yours? So, if my life's purpose is different than yours then how can I judge you on any action according to my purpose? How can I judge you according to the truths that I hold ultimate?
It's not fair to you and it's not fair to me either. Let's me fair to everyone, how does that sound? I like it when people are fair to me, and not so judgy. Don't you?

My son's fascination and fear of animals says so much about human nature it's amazes me. Our fear of everything we don't understand. He's afraid of them yet they intrigue him. They interest him. He is in awe of them. He would learn of them and learn so much from them if only he didn't have such unfounded fear. Thank God for books, Am I right?
I make up stories and scenarios to help him along. I'm hoping that as he grows older his interest in these creatures will bring him out of the fear but his cautious personality and just in general being fearful of everything has taught him to think hard and long before getting close to or explore anything he doesn't understand.

It's not just him. It doesn't seem to be just my son. That is how us humans function.
Some would argue that if we didn't have the cautious nature, and that we didn't have the natural ability of wanting to stay away from everything that we find threatening and dangerous we wouldn't have made it as far as we have as a species.
A completely valid argument, none the less we have this fear not just for animals and for species that we are Unfamiliar with, but we feel this way about our own kind.
I'll stick with my son's example. He's a very cautious little boy. He will not eat anything he has not seen, touched, smelled and tested before. He will not talk to anyone he has not seen, met, and is extremely comfortable with. If you ask him for a hug, oh gosh…that is just the most difficult task, even for us, let alone for a half stranger.
When it's time to make friends he applies the same kind of logic. Be cautious. Judge, ask questions, look carefully, what is that on his/her clothes? Why do they dress that way? Look that way? I don't want this here? I don't like it. He is super picky. We all are whether we like to admit it or not. We want our friends to be like us. So we gravitate towards people like us. It's animals in a herd. All side by side in their own groups scared of the other, hunting the other without knowing why.
Oh did I comparing us humans to animals? How dare I?
Oh but I dare. Go to any "international" gathering and herds of international people being national. Very few minglers. You'll find them. Very few.
Awkward minglers I'd like to ad. I know, I'm one of them. You try to go around and talk to different people and you get *looks*.
Sometimes you want to throw in the towel and just sit in with your own herd but then I think of my kid and his fascination with animals and how scared he is of them. And how I tell him stories about not everything that looks different is scary. And that we won't know until we try.
I want my children to be explorers. I want them to have a variety of experiences and that's not going happen by me sitting on the sidelines.
Ah…did I just compare us humans to animals again? How dare I.

It seems my weight journey is complete. Is that even possible? I’ve lost almost a 100 lbs. Today I got on the scale and I was at the weight where I had said that if I ever got to this weight I would stop trying to lose weight and just maintain it. 

Not much difference to be quiet honest.
I’m not one of those people who believe in following a “regime”. I don’t do a product type diet either. Eat or drink this regularly and you’ll lose this many pounds in this many days or weeks. No. I didn’t give myself any time limits. I just wanted to be healthy for life. That can’t have a deadline. I basically have a “till death do us part” type philosophy.
I follow many of these people who live their lives on those fads and diets. Or who are selling these healthy stuff; shakes, and other stuff. I mainly follow them for inspiration.
I’m the kinda person who believes in just eating/ making healthyish food at home and working out. Which means any kind of workout that suits you not the newest trend that’s sweeping the world today. Because not everything is for everyone.

I love junk food so I give in. I buy onion rings and sometimes eat a little bit and hide the packet so it’s not in my view or easily accessible. Sometimes I buy so much junk food at once that it’s unbelievable that I’m only shopping for one. I have been known to eat as much as I can in one sitting and then trash the rest because I don’t want to be tempted.
I guess you can say I’m doing it the hard way. No fancy shakes or smoothies. No pills to curb the cravings. But if it’s not hard it’s not fun.
That’s not true. Hard sucks but hard is the only way it really works and it’s the only way it doesn’t come back because it’s a lifestyle change. You are not dependent on things that will break your bank or you for that matter. You will cook at home like you always do. And you will just learn to control the urges. Urges don’t go away. They come. You feed them. You just feed them 5 chips instead of 20.
Back to my original point; was there one? Oh yea. What happens now? I thought the world would change. Butterflies would be more colorful. Flowers would smell better. PEOPLE would smell better. I thought when I stepped outside the sky would sing the theme song of my life, which would be an uplifting and beautiful melody. I imagined me, always showered and in beautiful clothes. I saw myself different from this.
What I am right now is, me. Just plain old me. Thinner, plain old me. Someone asked me, how does it feel when people say, “oh my God you’ve lost sooo much weight we didn’t even recognize you”? It feels good. It’s a very nice feeling to know that I’ve done the unthinkable. What people thought I would never be able to do. I like a challenge. I’ve always kept people on their toes. However, it doesn’t feel exceptional. Like that’s my entire self worth. After a while I want people to stop telling me how different I look. After a while I want people to notice other things about me.
Because I feel great but I still feel like me. To you I may look like a completely different person but to me I’m still me. Sooo, when you tell me, “I didn’t even recognize you” I feel like I’ve almost lost who I am. Sometimes people who I have known my entire life don’t come up and talk to me because they don’t recognize me and I don’t bother “reintroduce” myself. Now, it’s just too much trouble. The fun of it is wearing off.
So the answer to, “how it feels when people tell me that I look good or that I’ve lost so much weight”. It gets real old real fast.
I’m glad I did it for my health and for my children. I’m glad I did it for those days when I wear size small and it fits. I’m glad I did it for that haircut that I could never get away with, with my round face and double chin. I’m glad for so many more reasons.
Always remember though, when you look in the mirror you will always see YOU. Nobody else will look back at you at any weight. So if you are looking to be happy. If you are looking for skies to sing for you then find that in something else and not in your ideal weight because here I am, and I want to keep going because those skies are still far from singing. 

Something’s happened. I’m trying very hard to understand what it is. It comes and goes in my head. And then it hits. It hits like a huge ice berg. Like both the titanic, and the iceberg have just simultaneously crashed into me at the same time.Zaydi is gone. I’ve repeated this so many times since the 3rd of July. Told people how it happened. He drowned. Yes, he didn’t like water. Didn’t like to swim. Respected water is a better word. Wasn’t afraid but just made sure to wear a life jacket or be prepared. For him to not do any of that, that day was strange and surprising. But I digress. 

I talk about it all the time. Zayd Mustafa is gone. 

Those are not just words I say without consequence, though. 

I remember my sister standing in the kitchen. Her water broke. We rushed her to the hospital. He was born. I remember being one of the first people to hold that tiny little creature. 

I remember him at the age of 3 insisting that he can “swim” when he couldn’t and slipping through my hands in the swimming pool and me holding him back saying “Zaydi you don’t know how to swim stay with me on the edge”. The irony is great in that right now. We always made fun of him for that. 

I remember when he used to come to spend summers with me; he used to bother me to no end with the aid of his other cousins. 

I would go to Pakistan, and I wouldn’t bother telling anyone but him that I’m coming because I knew he would take care of everything. That’s just the kind of person he was. 

Then he moved to the U.S and grew up. I think then we became friends because he became an adult. 

Weeks before his death my nieces and nephews were telling me that he is no doubt my favorite. His sister always said to me that I babied him. That I gave him too many breaks and I’m not letting him grow up. 

There is something I could not say to them in his life because none of them would understand. They would roll their eyes at me and say, “right, you just think that cause he’s your favorite.” He wasn’t my favorite, he indeed was a special human being. I knew it then and I am even more sure of it now. He had some really special qualities and not many people saw them. I knew what he was capable of. If given the opportunity that young man would touch the stars. These are not just words, people who know me and my relationship with him KNOW that this is what I thought of him and I would provide him with a ladder long enough to reach those stars if I could. But guess what? He got em. He got those stars all on his own. Allah never disappoints. He sees the worth and HE gives to those who deserve. 

I would get frustrated with him for being too kind to people who have been not so kind to him and he would say, “I understand not to get too close but I don’t want to be bitter and mean like them”. I cannot go over the list of things that made him different.  This is just one example, I could give many. I know that it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he smiled through any suffering and pain. He didn’t take life seriously enough to get him down. He always knew he’d come out on the other side tall and proud. And I made sure to tell him that I had his back no matter what. But he didn’t care because he knew that Allah had his back.

The boy is a son. He is not “like” a son to me. He is a son. I did not know it was possible to feel more pain than when I lost my first child. But here I am. When people see me with my two boys they automatically say, “oh you have two boys?” I nod in agreement. But under my breathe I whisper, “actually I have three.” Everyone forgets the third one who died years a go. That’s okay, it’s not their job to remember. A mother can never forget. Zaydi, you will also always be remembered. I will not mourn you as I am one of those lucky ones who keeps sending her children straight to heaven, no stops! 
He was taken to water, to martyrdom. Maybe it sounds insane to those who don’t believe. But to me, sounds like a good deal. HE took this sweet boy who was always there for others. Who never let anyone down. Who never disappointed anyone and in return God took him to the best of places. 

 Zayd is where he is the most important person now. He is now where nothing will be difficult for him. I know he was over whelmed and had a lot of pressure to do too much too soon. Now he can relax and just enjoy. 

My 5 year old says that bhayya is riding around on friendly dinosaurs and flying with superheroes. He even has a superhero name now apparently. 

Not having him around here is going to keep hitting me like a boulder but knowing where he is, is going to be a huge relief. 

One day when we meet him in paradise. When we see him in his garden with beautiful animals (can you tell that he loved animals) and everything that he wanted for himself. When we meet again with all of his family and friends, he will be with all the martyrs and Prophets. 

I think of the son of the Prophet(s). The original Zayd(a), how he was loved and cherished. Our Zayd is no less loved and no less cherished. 

We will always miss you but we know that there is nothing holding you back now.

Be in peace, be in love, be in happiness. 

No goodbye, just a, “see you in a bit. Save me a good spot!”