The days after Faizan’s death were a blur to me. Relatives and friends from all over had gathered to help and support me, overwhelming at times and much needed at others. Then, like fall, they started to disappear leaf by leaf, going on with their own lives and work, until only two remained: Ma and Baba. I felt I could snap like a twig most mornings, just as Zoha and Sian suspected before I chased them away, Zoha back to Karachi and her children, Sian to Ohio where he was studying public administration at Ohio University. Abu left before any of them to go back to his new family, people who were real to me only in pictures, the few I received of a wife, who often looked bored, and her son, who was seven and whose smiles always revealed a few missing teeth. He was adorable, though, plump-che
