In Loving Memory Of..

Today is the 26th of June, 2006. Exactly, four years ago, on this day, my dad passed away.

It's amazing how fresh a memory can be, after all that rehearsal you do, day by day. I still remember that day so clearly. It's so incredibly vivid, that I feel like I'm actually living it, everytime I think of it.

It was a few days after my mum and sister came back from Karachi. That night, when they arrived, my dad had cooked, his favourite dish - Chicken Pilau. He made it so deliciously, that I can still taste that tanginess, from the extra lemon he'd always put in it. It was spicy, but just right. He had the most childish smile on his face, as he opened the hot pot, on the table. His eyes gleaming, and his smile widening. He was proud of what he had made. I was so excited, and we all ate silently, complimenting the chef.

The night after, my cousins and aunt planned to come over, just to meet everyone. Dad went and brought so much food from outside. He brought packs of different kinds of kebabs and salads, and gosh, the whole house smelt of chicken. He loved his meat and chicken. And he'd always say, "I don't eat to keep myself alive. I live to eat!" That night, he fed everyone so much. Him and my brother in law, Rashid bhai (ayisha's dad), both had a long chat too.. The atmosphere was just, impossible to describe. That night, I saw my dad and mum, with that smile on their faces. It was perfect.

The day after, 26th June, 2002, he passed on, in a car accident. I was at a mate's house. He had asked me and Anisa (who went to work instead), to join him, my mum and older sister, Shafina, to Abu Dhabi, to give out her wedding invitations. Both of us said no, and said it'd be too boring. The last time I had seen him, was when he dropped me off at my mates place, he stopped the car, waiting till I was safetly upstairs, and gave me a final glance outside the window, waving his hand at me, and smiling. Ah, I'd give anything, to witness that one moment, all over again. Anything, at all..

When the phonecall came, I screamed, and burst into tears. My mum was on the phone, she told me that she needed me and Anisa to come quickly, to Abu Dhabi. I knew it was something more. I cried throughout the journey, I had this feeling that something went wrong with my dad. I remember only asking one question to my mum, "Where is dad, is he okay?".. Accompanied by the sirens of the ambulences. My heart knew, but my mind didn't want to accept it.

When we got to the hospital, I saw my uncle first. My dad's brother. I hugged him and cried. Again, I only asked one question, "where is my dad, is he okay?".. He replied, with a forced and fake smile that, "he's okay, he's in the ICU".. I felt better. At least he was "okay". I met my mum, who was in terrible shock, with a neck brace around her. She looked shocked, pale and very very traumatised. She thought my dad was safe too. I hugged her, and I couldn't bare the pain. I went out, and met my sister soon after. She cried, and all she asked me was, "where is dad".. With what I knew, I told her. She was in a horrible condition. Her eyes were filled with tears, whilst she lay in the hospital bed. She looked like she was in immense pain. All she asked me to do, was pray for her. I couldn't bare the sight.

For the remaining part of the day, me and my sister along with my cousin, spent the day in the mosque. Praying, crying and praying some more. I had faith, that my dad would be okay. As time passed on, we were all told to go home, and get some rest. I fell asleep on the floor, with a picture of my dad in my hand. I prayed for him all night.

I woke up quickly the next morning. I had heard a sudden shout. It was someone from outside. I ran out, and I saw my entire family from England, there. I screamed and cried. I begged everyone to tell me what had happened. No one said anything. With that, they said everything I hoped they wouldn't. He was gone. My father, my comfort, my life, my everything.. I just saw it all die away, right infront of me. I fainted soon after, and was taken in the room. I woke up, with everyone around me. Rashid bhai had his sun glasses on. I knew he was crying. I asked him how it could have happened. I told him that he told me, the previous night, that my dad was "recovering". He didn't say anything. He knew that my dad passed on, the previous day. I couldn't cry any longer. I went to my mum, who looked completely white. She was a stone. I shook her hard, and screamed, "He's dead mum! Do you understand! He's not coming back! He's never coming back." She looked at me, with dry eyes, and slow movement. She nodded her head.

We were all allowed to visit the mortuary, the next day. We all went in, two by two, hand in hand. I still remember how cold I was getting. The smell was getting stronger. The crying was getting louder. The crowd was getting larger. And finally, I saw him. There he was, laying, wrapped in a white cloth, with a bit of dried froth at his lips. He was gone. There layed his cold, flesh and bones. His body seemed to have no scars, yet the doctors said he passed on, due to a brain haemorrhage.

I went closer to his body, and I started shivering. His eyes were tightly shut. His lips were shut as well. I touched his cheeks, and began to cry. I fell to the floor, and was taken away from him, into the car. I couldn't believe he was gone. His once, cuddly and warm body, was now, just cold and dead. I was given a second chance to see him, but I fainted again. I couldn't take the pain and the torture any longer.

After they had buried him, all the men came home. My cousin, Sameer, came straight to my mums lap, and began bawling. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. My dad loved him to bits. He loved my parents to bits as well. He told my mum, how my dad had said something to him. He said, that he couldn't have gone..

Days went on, without him, until the next scary bit came along. We had to tell Shafina. She was the only one who did not know that my dad had passed on. I had never come to the hospital before that day, to meet her. I was too scared, and it was extremely painful, seeing her. When we told her, she held on to me tight, with all these needles stuck into her body. We were all, in tears. We had lost someone so special, someone who was unique and most definitely, one of a kind. He was my father.

Living without him, became hard. All we knew, was him. All we wanted was him. All we yearned for, was his tight and warm embrace. All we wanted was.. For things to get back to "normal".. We all distanced ourselves, but somehow got closer, to eachother. We were now, on our own. All we had, was eachother. Now, four years later, we're all still healing, but are moving on with life as well. We carry his memories with us, and share them almost, everyday.

I was thinking of him today, in the car. This old hindi song was playing on the radio. I started remembering his voice, and how he'd sing this one song, and I kept repeating the lyric, "Aaina hoon mein tera. Mein sawarunga tujhe, saare ghum de dey mujhe.. Bheegi palkein na jhooka, aaina hoon mein.. tera." Translated into english it goes something like: I'm your mirror. I'll take care of you, give me all your difficulties. Don't cry, I'm your mirror - Not spot on, but still. His voice was gorgeous. This song always annoyed me when I was younger. Now, that I've grown up, I understand the meaning of it. He used to love that song. It still kills me, whenever it plays.

Once, when he was sitting on his leather chair, watching TV Land, he stopped me in the middle of the passageway. He took his hand, and gestured a head massaged. I shrugged, and slowly came along. I started giving him a massage, but ended up sniffing his hair, and digging my nose into his head. He told me, "beta, what are you doing? I want a massage!" I laughed, and continued. Hmm. His "bujhiii" smelling hair, always did that, to us three sisters.

He left four years ago, and yet the pain still feels, fresh and new. It's something I doubt, all of us will let go of. That missing piece. That comfort. That smile. That.. Man. I was absolutely crazy about him..

I miss him like crazy at times and it also gets pretty hard. I just wish, I had the chance, to say all that I had to, before he left. I wish I could have given him one proper head massage, a chilled bottle of Periere and a lighted Cigar, whilst watching, Walker Texas Ranger. I wish I could see that smile on my mums face, just once. I miss it. It's been years since I last saw it. It was a whole smile. She's still hurting.

Hmm.. All I want to say, is Dad, I love you so much. I miss you so much, and even though you aren't here with us, physically.. You live on forever, in my heart and mind, everyday. I hope I'm making you proud of me, and fullfuling your dreams.. You still, mean the world to me. I love you, dad.

This blog entry, was obviously, dedicated to him.

.. It's been, four years.

..Sorry, I never told you.. All I wanted to say. Now it's too late to hold you, cause you've flown away, so far away.. Never had I imagined, living without your smile. Feeling, and knowing you'll hear me, it keeps me alive.. Alive.

And I know you're shining down on me from heaven. Like so many friends we've lost along the way. And I know eventually we'll be together.. One Sweet Day.