I first wrote this letter on February 20th, fully believing that was your birthday. Then I rewrote it on February 22nd, and now, on March 2nd, I’m still struggling to finish it. While searching my blog, I came across a note I had written for your 69th birthday last year—on February 9th. That made me realize my mistake. I even checked Skype to confirm, but, as always, Skype wasn’t much help. So, February 20th isn’t your birthday after all—it’s February 9th, isn’t it? My overconfidence failed me. I’m sorry. I know I never change—I’ve never been good at remembering birthdays, not even those of my wife, in-laws, or kids. Just one of those bad habits men tend to have. I guess old habits die hard.
Last year, they didn’t bring you any presents, but they gathered at your home—and their presence was the greatest gift of all. I hope you continue to stay healthy and strong, able to travel the world. At your age, good health is the greatest wealth. As Prophet Muhammad taught, we should value five blessings before they are lost—one of them being health before illness. This serves as a reminder to prioritize self-care. There’s a saying in French: "L’amour-propre est le commencement d’un amour éternel," which means, "Self-love is the beginning of an eternal love." True wealth lies in well-being. I wonder how many countries you’ve visited—100 and counting?You must have countless priceless stories.
Lately, I feel like my writing has become jabberwocky. Each time that thought crosses my mind, I stop writing. I rewrote this letter because my previous words felt empty, unworthy of being rephrased. Instead, I simply deleted them. That has become my way of life now—whatever or whoever disturbs my peace, I remove them. Be it in life, work, or anything else, I choose mental peace above all. My priority is taking care of myself and my small family while enjoying the financial freedom I’ve worked hard for. I cherish spending quality time with my kids and watching them grow—they are my greatest gift in life, my nepenthe. Their presence reminds me that joy still exists. They are my light in the darkness.
I am teaching myself to let go of the past and embrace the present. There is still a soft spot in my heart for her—memories remain even when people leave. Her absence left a deep wound, but I have learned to endure it. As Nizar Qabbani said, "Life doesn’t stop after losing someone; it simply goes on without them, differently." I often find myself lost in saudade, my mind constantly drifting to her, overwhelmed by sadness and grief. She was once my world—her laughter, stories, and jokes brought light to my days. I miss her more than words can express. Some days, the ache feels unbearable. As Proverbs 19:21 says, 'Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.'
Moving forward has been anything but easy. No matter how hard I try, she remains etched in my heart—unforgettable. Letting go feels like bidding farewell to some of my most cherished memories, a thought that brings an ache I cannot ignore. Each time I think of her, a deep sense of loss washes over me, threatening to overshadow the countless blessings my Lord has granted me. Yet, I remind myself to embrace qanā‘ah, trusting in Allah’s perfect decree. At this stage in life, I am learning to cultivate gratitude, just as Prophet Sulaiman. With this mindset, I open my heart to what lies ahead, believing that what is meant for me will find its way, and what is not will fade with grace.
_
Happy 70th birthday, Ibu! May Allah bless you with good health, endless happiness, and a lifetime of cherished memories. May He accept your good deeds, keep you surrounded by your loved ones, and fill your heart with peace. May all your prayers be fulfilled.
Baghdad, Iraq
February 2, 2025