Estimated reading time: 0 minutes, 24 seconds

No drama queen #poem

Estimated reading time: 0 minutes, 24 seconds

I’m no drama queen
I didn’t even cry
The day my dad died

But since that day
Small parts of me
Have been dying
All the time

But I still don’t cry
It’s not a stoic act
The tears never come
That’s just a fact



Still searching
For myself
In a world
Without my dad

(I miss my dad particularly during major sporting events, so Wimbledon and World Cup combo is a bit strong)

10 thoughts on “No drama queen #poem

  1. Maha, I wonder if the poem is written to be commented on? I often find people commenting on things I say when I didn’t want comments. An oddity that occurs in the space between the private personal and open expression? By “complete” I mean the expression of emotion in the poem needs no further illustration to complete the picture.

    I’ve been told by all sorts of people important to me that holding to regrets prevents healing and growth yet it seems a small duty to pay for a reminder of my imperfection. Father / child relationships are very difficult, I have no resolution 30 years after my Father’s sudden death. Strangely, from the other side as a person whose been faced with potential death a number of times, saying goodby to my Daughters and Wife has left me struck dumb. When I’ve tried tried to form the words there were none. Later, of course words appear but they aren’t the words that express that moment.

    Your feelings for your Dad might be so big and important that they won’t resolve into an ending.


    1. Hi Scott, I guess when I publish something, it means I am open to others reading it and commenting on it, though of course no one really knows what’s behind it. I was reading a book recently where they were saying how lyrics or poetry that we write in a moment will cease to represent “us” because we move on from that moment, but their value lies in how they might help someone else feeling something similar at another moment. Some of my f2f friends commented on facebook, particularly the ones who lost their fathers recently, so I think in that sense I feel “good” for publishing it. Comments make me feel heard, as I have stopped looking at the wordpress stats to know how many ppl see my stuff, so I like getting comments, though I know someone can read/appreciate, but have nothing to add. I guess in some ways I want my online friends who care to know what kind of emotions I am going through, for some reason. Maybe because in other interactions I seem more bubbly? But you, particularly Scott, seem to be very much in tune with me, including the subtleties behind some of my posts where I bury my pain in the midst of other stuff. Less explicit than this one, although this one is hiding a lot of stuff, too.
      Thanks for sharing the insight about your own relationship with your kids. I feel like having a child is the one thing that made me start to fear my own death. Not for myself, but for her. How would i know she’s ok, taken care of, happy? I guess you almost can’t know it when you’re alive but you can try

  2. This jumps around a bit.

    Maha, think it was Nancy White who spoke of being a “social artist” as the artistry of reaching people amid the craziness online. Should read more about it before commenting, (except I never do). You have roles and responsibilities to maintain Maha and still are willing to display a complexity that I find a characteristic of women that men seem unable to access. I don’t want that carried out into a male / female comparison list though you do have that quality of bravery that creative women I’ve known can’t hesitate to display. My sense is that bravery comes from the Father as a representative of the world in many cultures. Having grown up among strong females I felt there was a sense of hesitation in them to abandon the wisdom of surviving without force. I think men seldom even consider wiser methods so maybe I should not name it “bravery”? Though in women it seem brave to push. (I’m uncertain here). As if the unplanned world was no place for them to play and to be irresponsible was an abandonment of female duty. The risk of being ungraceful is hard to allow in yourself and creates little to no conflict in men as it does in women. Who ironically are tasked to endure the clumsiness of men and children as part of their their role as reluctant Goddess of well folded napkins and shrinking sensibilities. Being a complication to others might mean you will never fully understand yourself. Does that sound right?


    1. Hey Scott, it does jump around a bit 🙂 but it all makes sense in some jumbled up sort of way 🙂 – again lots of what you write is soooo quotable, nuggets of wisdom that i am lucky to get from knowing you. I am so lucky to have you in my life

  3. Maha, don’t underestimate your ability to connect with others. Genuine people like you are hard to find and I love it that you see everything as needing you to think about it. Most people are nowhere near as engaged in the world.

    Unrelated question: We have friends on Vancouver Island that worked at the American High School in Cairo a few years back. Julie and Rick Howell. Do you know them?

    1. Nope, don’t know them. A lot of American high schools in Egypt (which one?), and I went to school in Kuwait (British). Would’ve loved an extra layer of connection, tho 🙂

  4. We could make up a connection maybe? My younger daughter Lindsay decided to see Europe about 10 years ago with her pal Emmie. They did Greece and then ended up in Cairo, both sick, blonde and in beach wear. Emmie being taller and bustier attracted the most attention but Lindsay had Julie and Rick’s Cairo address and girls hid out there and street proofed themselves a bit. The second connection Cairo comes from the kindness of the person who returned a package I’d sent care of General Delivery to Lindsay. Didn’t know there were so many post offices in just one city but someone found the remains of the package I’d sent, re-wrapped it and returned it. Kindness is what I know of Cairo and associate with Egypt. Probably the foolishness of being a father you think?

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