I only have a few memories of my parents. My first memory was with my mother in our house yard, I was horrified by the noise of the airplane flying at a low distance spraying insect repeller to kill mosquitoes as I’m trying to hide inside my mother’s arms. the second memory was with my father, he was driving us in his white “fiat” car to the mosque for the tarawih prayer; it was Ramadan and I chose to go with my mother to the women’s section on the second floor so I can enjoy the top view of the people while praying. 

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My last memory with them was on their last day. I was coming back from kindergarten with my brother carrying my bag and wearing a white shirt, I saw people gathered in our house yard. they were all crying and there was a police car in front of our house door. I can't recall who‘s death it was, my mother or father. these few engraved memories of my parents were all seen through my eyes of me as a child.

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I always question if these memories were real or were just dreams. 

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my parent passed away when I was three years old in 1998. Seventeen days had passed since my mother’s death, my father was returning home and an incident happened. on the way back he was trying to settle a fight between two groups of people in which one of our relatives was involved in. accidentally my father was hit with a stick on his head. my father died after five days in the hospital.

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After my parents passed away we moved to live with my grandmother.
 

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"2019-2023"