Things I Want to Remember

That time he switched PJ pants with me when I was pregnant and huge.
His eyes when he looked at me. They sparkled with joy.
How he thought I always needed sunglasses.
How he called me Camila Khanoom and I called him Shahriar Khan and it made his family laugh because we called each other something very formal like king and queen.
When I was pregnant and Zoya would kick his back and waken him up, but I’d sleep through it.
How he would respond with praise and thanks when I ran an errand or went grocery shopping or paid a bill.
How we always said I love you, always said I miss you, and always told each other we were a good mamma or daddy and husband or wife.
How he loved hairdryers and used them instead of a towel in winter time.
How he made a clicking sound in the back of his throat and was so proud that Zoya could do that.
How his snoring became a comforting sound to me.
The tenderness and gratitude between us while surviving the tear gas by pouring milk on our faces and in our eyes.
Iranian omelets.
Laying on his chest.
How obsessed he was with getting his back and head scratched.
How much he loved her.
His long patient night while I was in labor.
His relief that we didn’t have to hurry to the hospital and how he told everyone about it afterwards.
When his boss gave him a $100 tip to take me on a date and he picked out the restaurant for the first time.
All the games of online yahoo pool we played before he moved here.
His inability to stop until a project was finished.
How he always made sure I had water by my bed.
How he made so much tea for me when I was trying to nurse.
The hours we spent resting in bed, looking at our phones, together, and how we fought and learned to put them down and be present.
Our first air plant, Sam.
How much fun we had redoing the floors, despite some overtired fights, we thrived working together.
How he sent me the Bruno Mars song about being Lazy to explain how he wanted to spend his Father’s Day, but then went on to marvel at the talent required to shoot it all in one take.
How he loved music, but may have liked music videos even more.
How he loved art and jazz and how I feel like I still had so much more to learn from him and learn with him.
How I learned from his friends how much my getting him a flying lesson meant to him.
How he wanted to go visit all the museums in NYC.
How he loved that in America people are encouraged to find and follow their dreams.
How he still confused gender pronouns.
How he became determined in his last weeks to go back to school and both follow his dream and learn to better provide for his family.
How he didn’t understand individuals who should be men, but were really boys, and were pursuing anything other than a family.
How I feel like I’m the most blessed woman in the world to have been his wife and now his widow.
Every tear is worth it. He was my Khan.