The Scent of Rosewater is a love story set in Iran, a country at war and still struggling to accept the harsh conditions imposed on the people by the Iranian revolution of 1979. It is my daughter Anna’s story but as she died before she could complete it I did that for her, in lieu of a memorial. Although my name does not appear on the cover a large part of it is written by me and I was able to do this as I had shared time with Anna in Iran during the period that is covered by the book.
Excerpt from the Prologue of The Scent of Rosewater.
Early in 1993 the cancer made itself felt again, causing searing pain in the spine, increased difficulty in breathing, and disruption of the digestive system. The oncologist now spoke not of time to be gained but of quality of life. Radiation relieved the pain, her lungs were periodically drained, and chemotherapy killed the newly growing cells, cancerous and non-cancerous alike. But nothing worked to prevent the nausea, and with minimal sustenance she quickly lost weight and strength. We hired a wheelchair to transport her from bed to day-bed, always elegant in her chosen outfit for the day. We took her for walks along little used paths in the park, hearing less and less the tuis’ summer song as the weather changed. Sometimes we took the kittens that had been her birthday present and they would fly ahead, skidding up trees to show off their prowess.
A week before she died she asked me to telephone her closest friends to come and say goodbye. A few days later she lost the power of speech and became comatose for most of the time. Yet still sometimes her little quavering voice rose and fell with the tune of the lullabies I sang her. Mamajan, who had come from Iran to be with us, was hosing down the courtyard and paths, saying that she was cleaning them for the angels that were flying very near now.
Bijan was with Anna holding her hand, when she opened her eyes for the last time. Perhaps it was her choice to die while alone with the man who had brought such richness to her life.
Her friend, the lyric writer Hans Poulsen, wrote a song for her I Carry You in my Heart.
Anna, I carry you in my heart.