Leaving Pieces of My Heart Behind
My Heart Aches For My Family
Hello, everyone! I hope you are reading this with a radiant smile on your lips.
Today, I want to share the bittersweet story of leaving behind part of my soul and my loved ones, packing all my life into a 25 kg suitcase, forgetting the taste of my favorite meal, and missing the comforting embrace of my mother’s hugs.
It was July 2024 when my life’s angel, Laura Jan, texted me with the news I had longed for—preparations were underway for me to leave Afghanistan and journey to Pakistan. She had discovered a way to bring the light of knowledge into my life. With this revelation, I felt like floating high in the sky, rushing around my room in joyful disbelief. I hugged my mother and sisters tightly, excitedly shouting, “Mom, I will finally escape this prison of ignorance!”
Excitedly, I grabbed my phone and called my father, who worked in a distant province. "Dad! I’m leaving! I can fight for Afghan women and return to school!" My words tumbled out in a blissful rush, and although my dad laughed gently and listened, my heart was filled with hope and happiness. I danced and laughed around the house that day, enveloped in joyful energy.
Yet, as the sun began to set and darkness spread, my mood changed. I walked to the balcony, gazing into the night. I heard my mother praying quietly, her tears heavy with sorrow. When I peered through the window, I found her crying, and suddenly, the reality of leaving sank in. I lay down on the balcony, staring at the stars, engaging in a silent conversation with myself. "Can you manage to wake up in a completely different place? Can you return home and not find her in the kitchen? Will you come down to see your tired father come home? How can you watch your favorite show without arguing over the remote with your siblings? Can you gather your students without them shouting in excitement? Can you learn something new without rushing and telling it to your students? Can you buy chocolate milk without your best friend?
The next day, I walked into my classroom, filled with a mixed sense of anticipation and anxiety. One of my students, an innocent 11-year-old, looked up at me earnestly and asked, “Can you continue teaching us next month? I love your teaching. I don’t want another teacher.” Her heartfelt words brought a flood of tears to my eyes. I smiled through my emotions and promised to be her teacher, knowing this was the last day we would share. As the class concluded, I imparted my final advice and told them: “Never let anyone steal your rights. Don’t believe in fairy tales; rise up and fight for your life.” I whispered goodbye, feeling as if my heart would break.
Then came the most challenging day of my life. At 8:21 PM, I received a call instructing me to arrive at the Torkham border by 10 AM the next day. That night, as darkness enveloped us, tears streamed down my cheeks unnoticed, and my mother’s silent sobs echoed in the shadows. I packed everything I held dear into a suitcase, torn between my heart, whispering, "What about your mother? Your loved ones?" and my mind urged me, "Think of your future. Think of your dreams."
That night was filled with a profound anxiety I could hardly describe, one that kept me awake. I had to leave home at 6 AM, and when I woke, I took a shower, preparing for the day ahead. My father would accompany me to the border. I wish I could take more of your time to describe everything I felt, as it would take nights, seasons, and maybe even years.
Finally, it was time to say goodbye. I hugged my family for the last time, and I’m sorry if this brings tears to your eyes; I wrote this with blurred vision, tears marking my paper. I held my older sister tightly, knowing she would have no one to spend hours talking to, no one to cry with about her worries and the challenges of her scary married life. I left them all behind, hoping they would understand and forgive me.
When we reached the border, my father told me we would arrive in 30 minutes. Fear coursed through me as I faced the reality of leaving everything behind—my entire life—for an unfamiliar land; I was trembling like an autumn leaf. When we arrived, I had to say goodbye to my father. It was the most challenging moment of my life. I cried out loud, my heart breaking as people stared at me. He told me to take care of myself, turning away, only to return for one last embrace. Though he didn’t weep, I saw the pain etched in his gaze. As he walked away quickly, I strained to catch sight of him one last time until he vanished in the crowd.
Turning back to my future, I wiped my tears and whispered, “Welcome to this new chapter of your life! Embrace this pain.”
Helai Murshid is an Afghan refugee living and studying in the United States, thanks in part to.
America has never been a reliable ally, we learned that after the Battle of Horseshoe Bend when the Tennessee Volunteers in General Jackson's army trashed our country while returning home. As payment for our services in the Spanish-American War the Americans confiscated our remaining land in I.T. and forced us to take individual allotments, except they had already taken so much after the Treaty of 1866 that there was not enough left to reward the grifters doing the allotting and provide full allotments as well to us. America - they came and never left, unlike in Afghanistan.
But about those Afghan who worked with USA army and lost family member