A visit to the chapel

Last night we had dinner in the city at Persian Grill, declicious Persian food. It's located on 1st ave and 67th street.

Right across from Memorial Sloan Kettering. As I approached the exit for the hospital I felt a tightening of my chest. Coincidentally we parked right in front of it. I could not help but glare at it. Has it changed, is this still the same building where Rehab spent her last few days? Perhaps I dreamt of it, those five days spent shuffling between home and hospital did not happen.

We walked to the restaurant, where we were greeted by the world's slowest servers. As we waited for them to take our orders, I put on my coat, told my husband what to get for me and walked out. I walked down 67th street, with it's parking garage, children's playground and school. A quick left at the corner put me in front of the hospital. The security guard greeted me and asked me what floor I was visiting. I was speechless, so he asked if I was a visitor. "Kind of." Finally I went up to that lobby. I thought perhaps I would see Zaied, sitting alone, or Hend and her husband taking a walk. Or Rehab's mother in law, doing work on her laptop. But it was empty. A ghost town. So I went to the chapel, read Quran and made dua for Rehab and all those in the hospital, before her, and those who were yet to come.

As I stepped outside, I took in the deepest breath I had since we arrived in the city. It was a frigid day, but did not bother me. I was enjoying my ability to breath.