Grief

Growing Girl

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My plans for this blog were it to be like a baby book, so if from time to time I give a few too many details about baby’s milestones, remember, this wasn’t supposed to be about anything else.

Our princess is feeling better today.  She still coughs a bit and only eats a little, but she is eating some and best of all, she is smiling.

Two nights ago, during a very, very long bedtime routine, Zoya asked me to scratch her back.  I’ve rarely scratched her back, until that night it always tickled her too much, but her daddy loved his back being scratched more than anything else.

I had a lot on my mind and a lot of conversations to have with God and Shah, and suddenly she grew up before my very eyes.  She didn’t care to nurse to sleep for hours, as she usually does.  She wanted her back scratched.  (RABBIT TRAIL – I talk to God.  I listen to God.  Shah is live in Christ.  I think he probably hears.  Sometimes, I address Shah directly because God and I have an understanding.  We know I’m really talking to God.  I’m not communing with the dead.  God often used Shah to speak to me when he was alive and on earth.  I’m not looking to my dead husband for guidance, but I also often remember that Shah is alive in Christ when I am talking to Christ.)

So there I was, scratching her back, listen her to say unintelligible things about Baba, and suddenly boom, she kicks those heavy covers off with all a vengeance.  Now that is nothing new, but suddenly I remembered, her daddy also hated heavy covers.  How on earth are those things passed down genetically?  She always gets mad when she realizes I’ve put the heavy comforter on her, and quite frankly he was a total grouch about it as well.  Here I am, loving the idea of a heavy sand blanket to comfort me and these two wimps want a blanket that is lighter than air.

Then, today, as we were playing this angel grew up again.  We were home alone, playing chase and wrestling on the floor and suddenly she walks around behind me and starts scratching my back.

Now there was a lot of back scratching when her baba was alive, but that was six months ago and there and been little to none since then.  But clearly she has some memory of it.  Of course, I cried.  I cried a lot.  We always talked about the day when she would be able to scratch her baba’s back.  I’d put her behind him and try to teach her, but she never seemed to have a clue what we were saying.  She had just turned one years old when he died.

But scratching has returned to the Zolfaghari household and I hope this tradition stays.

 

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About Camila

From the mountains of North Carolina. New widow of a man from Iran. Mother of one precious girl. Anti-human trafficking expert. Pro-life leader. Sister to 16 siblings. Daughter of God.

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