From Celebration to Mourning
News traveled quickly through the family.
Rashid's relatives came to the hotel.
His mother was devastated.
His brothers struggled to understand what had happened.
Some of the same people who had been laughing and dancing together just hours earlier now found themselves gathering in grief.
It was difficult to comprehend the speed of the change.
One day there had been flowers, wedding speeches and photographs.
The next there were phone calls, medical conversations and funeral arrangements.
Sarah moved through those first days almost mechanically.
Grief was mixed with disbelief.
But another emotion soon appeared.
Guilt.
Sarah began replaying the wedding in her mind.
Had Rashid looked tired?
Had he mentioned discomfort?
Had there been some small sign she had ignored?
Could she have noticed something during dinner?
Should she have awakened earlier?
What if she had realized something was wrong during the night?
The questions repeated themselves.
Doctors tried to reassure her that there was nothing she could reasonably have done.
But grief is not always logical.
When someone disappears suddenly, the mind searches for an explanation. Sometimes it searches for someone to blame.
And sometimes the easiest person to blame is yourself.
Sarah tortured herself with possibilities that could never be answered.
If she had done something differently, would he still be alive?
The medical explanations said one thing.
Her grieving mind said another.
Learning to Live With the Silence
The first month was the hardest.
Sarah had spent months preparing to become Rashid's wife.
She had imagined waking beside him, traveling with him and growing older with him.
Instead, she had become a widow almost immediately after becoming a bride.
She struggled to eat.
Sleep became difficult.
When she did sleep, waking could be painful because for a brief moment she might forget what had happened.
Then reality returned.
There were reminders everywhere.
His clothes.