I love my tiny family. I’m the oldest of 17 children, so I’m used to a big family. Shah and I loved being a three person family and wanted to grow. When he was killed those dreams died, and I’ve just felt broken for the last year.
It has been a very hard few weeks. The second year really is harder so far, like nearly everyone said. In a way, the pain is still getting sharper and sharper as the shock fades away. This past wave of grief felt like it would never end.
But then as we were driving home from the fireworks last night Zoya spilled her chocolate milk all over her shirt and said, “Uh-oh, I made a big mess.” I gave her a towel and then stopped to check it out. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with joy that she is my family. I’ve spent so much time being grateful that I had such an amazing husband and mourning our loss that I’ve lost sight of the family I still have, this amazing little girl. She isn’t her daddy. She doesn’t share responsibility for our family. But she is a fabulous daughter and I’m beginning to see that we are a whole family, it’s just a different whole.