Pain of migration…

Sometimes I do feel nostalgia when I think about what I have missed in life… like:
Never seeing the wedding of the only brother nor any of the cousins nor all the best friends in Iran. And those are the people we shared our dreams and young hood with.
Never being there for their first baby, never attending their birth days and never seeing their first day of the schools!
When calling them, their kids don’t recognize me, and pass the phone to their dads.
Never seeing the passing of grand parents or dad… and that’s painful.

Sometimes I wonder if pursuit of my dream… was worth it!? Or was it just a mirage that mesmerized me away from what was real around me.
These days, as I drift in the sea of life events, in my wrecked boat. I wonder some times, if I were more content and not a dreamer, I would not miss all those events!

I often ask myself. What would be better? Living for our dreams or for our memories and heritage?! If I had stayed, for sure, I would not have experience the world and reach my dreams …
They say “every one to reach his own”…Mine changes all the time like a schizophrenic mania I don’t know what is it and where is it anymore?…
What if we want both?

Unfortunately, life does not give the chance of having both to just about everyone, particularly to those who happen to be part of the “Lost generations”. (Ex: in current Iranian history consists of those who are between 25-55 years of age)

Then I keep telling myself, at least let’s conquer one of them in life… and give our children the opportunity to have both…