I bought my cellular phone a little over a year ago. The salesperson insisted that it was one of the most hip phones in the market and I wouldn't regret my decision. I was of course taken by the MP3 player, voice recognition feature and slick look. A year later, and I am yet to use any of the cool additions.
My phone accompanies me everywhere I go. We've developed quite a relationship and we don't intend breaking up any time soon. So you can imagine the close proximity we keep at all times.
But the strangest thing happened the other day: the screen on my phone lit for no reason. I examined the phone, there were no incoming calls or text messages, However I did notice something...
A picture of my late grandmother, who would have been 83 this past April. My mother had taken the picture two weeks before she passed in November. I've been carrying her picture around ever since.
Some days when I am angry at my phone, I look at the picture heartlessly and convince myself that I am no longer pained by her death. I am over it. Completely. Do you hear? But then other times the picture triggers funny memories that fix a perfect smile to my face.
But this one time, I gazed at her picture with a different set of eyes. It's like striking a conversation with a still image that has come to life for a split second, just for you. I could see beauty in her once wrinkly soft skin; tough chapped hands waving weak breezes to her flushed face; tiny feet complaining of old age; an elegant smile showing itself gracefully to my mother's camera; the clean scent from her Friday morning shower; glistening eyes showing excitement for the journey to come.
Where did it all go? It's right here, on my phone.
رحمك ربي وجعل قبرك نورا
ياماما كوثر
ياحبيبتي
ونور عيني
وامي
ذوات العين الخضارء والزرقاء
Labels: Death, Family, mourning, reflections