Ali Mobasser

Afsaneh Box II

As the paramedics took Afsaneh out of the front door she asked me to grab her handbag. I held her hand all the way to the hospital as the ambulance sped past the traffic in Putney High Street. I made a silly joke about the traffic to keep her spirits up but all I remember is the fear in her eyes as she stared at me helplessly.

Once at the hospital the doctors managed to bring her blood pressure down and told us that Afsaneh would recover. Once visiting hours were over we began to say our good byes. I asked her if she wanted me to bring her iPad but she said no. The final expression I saw from my aunt was a womderful surprised smile as Faris for the first time managed to string a full sentence together and said, “Bye-Bye Afi”. An hour after we had all left, a second, more severe stroke sent her into a coma.

On August 13, 2013, Afsaneh's heart stopped. She was fifty-six years of age. As we were leaving the hospital my father and I were handed a plastic bag that contained Afsaneh's personal belongings.

Six months on I would place the contents of that bag onto Afsaneh’s duvet and make a document of her final day.
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