The Night I Faced My Fears: Love, Legacy, and the Soul of ZADEH
The pain woke me from my sleep, sharp and relentless, radiating from my throat and spreading through my chest. Was I dreaming, or was this real? I shifted my body, trying to escape it, but the pain clung to me, unyielding. It couldn’t be a heart attack—it was on the right side. Maybe… an aneurysm?
Lying immobile, waiting for the pain to subside, my thoughts spiraled into a cascade of panic and reflection. Is this it? Am I dying? At first, I remained calm, reasoning with myself. If this is happening, at least I can go knowing I have no regrets. I’ve lived fully, loved deeply, and my children will be okay. I even found a strange comfort in the thought that my husband, David, would likely remarry quickly—life would carry on.
But then, fear wrapped its cold fingers around me. A new thought took hold, one that wouldn’t let go: What about ZADEH? What will happen to my brand? It sounds absurd, doesn’t it? Imagining someone thinking about their jewelry line in what might be their final moments. But you have to understand: my brand isn’t just a business; it’s my fourth child.
ZADEH is a reflection of my soul, years of hard work, passion, and creativity. The idea of abandoning it felt like betrayal. My mind raced: What will happen to all my designs? To the jewelry in the safe—my babies? Would someone just melt everything down, erase everything I’ve built?
Eventually, the pain began to fade, and sleep overtook me, though anxiety still clawed at the edges of my mind.
The next morning, I woke and told David everything. You have to promise me, I said, that you won’t just melt everything if something happens to me. He laughed, shaking his head, probably thinking I’d lost my mind.
But I wasn’t done. I called my daughters, one by one, and begged them: Please take care of ZADEH. Don’t let it go to waste. Too much of my soul, my love, and my dreams are in this brand. They listened, but I could hear the disbelief in their voices. To them, I was being melodramatic.
I’ve always raised my girls to see me as strong, as someone who stands on her own and doesn’t ask for help. I never wanted them to worry about me. But ZADEH is my legacy. It’s a piece of me, and the thought of it being dismantled feels like erasure.
Even now, as I write this, the tears come. Maybe I need therapy. Maybe I’m a little crazy. But if you’ve ever poured your heart into something—a dream, a passion—you’d understand. This brand isn’t just jewelry; it’s a testament to my life.
Lying immobile, waiting for the pain to subside, my thoughts spiraled into a cascade of panic and reflection. Is this it? Am I dying? At first, I remained calm, reasoning with myself. If this is happening, at least I can go knowing I have no regrets. I’ve lived fully, loved deeply, and my children will be okay. I even found a strange comfort in the thought that my husband, David, would likely remarry quickly—life would carry on.
But then, fear wrapped its cold fingers around me. A new thought took hold, one that wouldn’t let go: What about ZADEH? What will happen to my brand? It sounds absurd, doesn’t it? Imagining someone thinking about their jewelry line in what might be their final moments. But you have to understand: my brand isn’t just a business; it’s my fourth child.
ZADEH is a reflection of my soul, years of hard work, passion, and creativity. The idea of abandoning it felt like betrayal. My mind raced: What will happen to all my designs? To the jewelry in the safe—my babies? Would someone just melt everything down, erase everything I’ve built?
Eventually, the pain began to fade, and sleep overtook me, though anxiety still clawed at the edges of my mind.
The next morning, I woke and told David everything. You have to promise me, I said, that you won’t just melt everything if something happens to me. He laughed, shaking his head, probably thinking I’d lost my mind.
But I wasn’t done. I called my daughters, one by one, and begged them: Please take care of ZADEH. Don’t let it go to waste. Too much of my soul, my love, and my dreams are in this brand. They listened, but I could hear the disbelief in their voices. To them, I was being melodramatic.
I’ve always raised my girls to see me as strong, as someone who stands on her own and doesn’t ask for help. I never wanted them to worry about me. But ZADEH is my legacy. It’s a piece of me, and the thought of it being dismantled feels like erasure.
Even now, as I write this, the tears come. Maybe I need therapy. Maybe I’m a little crazy. But if you’ve ever poured your heart into something—a dream, a passion—you’d understand. This brand isn’t just jewelry; it’s a testament to my life.
