He Took My Rose and Broke My Heart

Her name was Rose “Warda”. Yes, this was my youngest aunt name.

She was my first teacher. She taught handwriting. She had the most beautiful Arabic calligraphy I have ever seen. My hand writing is still bad.

She also liked to draw and her lines were soft and beautiful.

Her name was Rose “Warda”, she was my youngest aunt.

She was like her name: delicate, elegant and beautiful.

She used to wait for me and my brother to come back from our universities to visit her in the Oasis. She used to make mango juice and cook Egyptian dishes for dinner for us.

She had a soft heart and a generous soul. She loved us so much but then she got sick. She got really sick and she started to wither. The beautiful Rose became so weak and frail but she still made us the mango juice and cooked dinner.

Then I left Egypt and left her behind in the oasis. Just like I have left everything behind.

I did not call her but followed her news from her sister, my mother. I also never went back to the oasis even when I visited Cairo. I took her for granted.

Last time I was in Cairo she also was in Cairo. She was in the intensive care unit because her organs started failing and she suffered internal bleeding.

I did not visit her in the hospital. I remember my Rose happy and young. I remember her as my teacher who used to get so angry at me for my horrible hand writing. I could not get myself to see her sick.

Then she died. Death took my Rose away and broke my heart. I am so angry at everything. I am angry I won’t see her again. I am angry she left me and the world. I am angry I could not say goodbye. I am angry I had to be strong for the family.

I will miss her until I die. I will miss her and all the other beloved that death took away from me. I loved my Rose so much and I hope she knew it, I really do.