Second August is fast approaching. It was the day I took farewell from my husband. This year is the sixth, since he parted from my children, and I.
He was changing clothes, when I remarked blithely, “You look smart having a lovely flat stomach”.
Nola (daughter) had a dream when she was a little girl. She came to me with tears running down her face, and whispered to me as she looked at her father a bit fearfully, “He hasn’t changed, is he?”
“What do you mean?” I whispered back.
“In my dream I saw he isn’t my father. He is an alien really”.
Nola and her brother had been watching a series about aliens on tv in those days. She had a nightmare, so now she thought her father had turned into an alien. The children, and I were living away from my husband in Quetta, Baluchistan because of their studies. He would come for a day, or so to visit us, and then back to his duty in Larkana, Sind, where his brigade was stationed.
Thinking about a solution I told Nola, “Watch his stomach. If it’s still big, then he isn’t an alien”. Nola was reassured, and was all smiles for the day.
Coming back to the day in 2012 when I admired my husband’s stomach, he looked strangely at me for a few seconds, and then said, “Would you like it, if it was yours?”. I was embarrassed at my own stupidity, and felt tongue tied. His stomach had been removed because of stomach cancer, and those were his last days with us before he died.