Many years ago, I read somewhere , time is a form of healing, but I struggled to understand how time could mend wounds that felt so deep. It took numerous challenges and self-reflection to grasp the concept of healing over time. Last year, I immersed myself in books, lectures, and learning experiences, all aimed at coping with loss. I finished my thirteenth book on the anniversary of my dad’s departure, and that’s when I realized the true power of time in healing.
Watching the days pass and observing my own pain and suffering allowed me to see that things can indeed improve with time. Now, Baba as I approach your anniversary , I find myself in a state of mind I never imagined.
It’s a significant shift to realize that the feeling of absence or the role of being an orphan no longer resonates within me. I once was Baba’s little daughter, but things have evolved. The earthly connection we shared it doesn’t exist anymore but I walked with him numerous times in Mountain Spring Monastery, I cooked my finest dishes with him by my side since he left.
“Baba, you were the most captivating person to be around. Your ability to live fully in the present moment without worrying about tomorrow, your passion for music and the tears that welled up when listening to poetry, your ability in cooking and the joy you found in sharing meals with others, your unwavering generosity even in times of personal hardship—these memories of you and your beautiful smile will forever be etched in my heart.”
Your carved this poem in my life:
احسان هنری نیست به امید تلافی
نیکی به کسی کن که به کار تو نیاید
صائب
Your forever little daughter
Shima