Shory story imaginative by the admin In May, both my mother and sister were killed in a tragic car accident. That Ramdhan, I couldn't imagine celebrating Eid without them. As the days moved closer to eid, my sorrow deepened and i found myself immersed in a quicksand of self-pity. Wasn't it enough that i had a helpless and handicapped child and hardly any financial resources? Add the crushing blow of both my mother and sister being killed. It was apparently more heartache than I could carry. On the 27th of Ramadan just after taraweeh, I was so deep into my pit of tears, I could hardly function. As I dragged back home from the masjid, I imagined that everyone was happy except me. Passing house of a neighbor, it began to seep into my memory that her husband had just passed away and this would be their first eid without him. I looked at the next house and recollected that they were having a problem with their teenager. In the next home behind those lighted windows, were sorrowing parents, for they had lost their only child just a few months ago. Silently I walked through our little town, and as I passed each home, for the first time in months, I began to remember other people's sufferings instead of my own, and gradually realized that I was not the only person life had punched in the gut. There was hardly a household that didn’t have sorrow or tragedy. Did not everyone bear their own burdens and cry their own tears? Back home, standing at the window I glanced down the hill at the house on the corner. Within those walls lived a mother, her four children and their grandmother. Everyone in town was aware of their plight and struggles, and although my financial resources might be slim, theirs were downright precarious. What type of ramdan they are having? Would the little girl who was my youngest daughter’s age have any new clothes for Eid? What would they have had for dinner? Does grandma get enough nutrition to be able to fast during long summer days? Empathy began to awaken me and nudge the edges of my grief. My eyes were full of tears but they were not attributed to my own grief anymore. It dawned on me that I had found the key to unlock myself from misery for there-right under my nose; there were many worse off than me. If I could gather my strength and forget about me, I could make a difference in many a family. Next day, I called people for a small iftar party. It was really an amazing experience. We shared our sorrows and everybody felt light hearted. After the party they left after giving me loads of duaas. After that, I decided to shop for the mother of four and her children and of course grandma too. I collected the money from my savings. As I was leaving, my younger daughter came with her savings because she wanted a share too in spreading happiness.