Many years ago, amidst tears, I asked my father "do you love me Abu?"
He replied, "I don't just love you. You are my soul!"
Something washed over my being in that moment.
The recognition that I was cherished.
Carried in someone's existence in a way I would never be carried again.
Such is a father's love...
Today amidst tears again, I asked out loud, "Where are you meray pyaray say Abu jee?"
Only this time there is silence and the sound of a choked up sob, I didn't realize had crept into my throat unbeknownst to me.
He is not around. And yet he is.
He is with me all the time. In my memories. In my thoughts. In my silence. In my chatter. In the quiet and in the noise.
He is always around.
In the most unexpected of places he was and is always there.
When I was a kid, trying to make sense out of life, he was there in the oddest of memories that would otherwise be panic inducing, I remember him there- calming me with his presence. Like the day I stumbled into a red ant hill and was covered in them, being literally eaten alive! I don't remember the pain, I only remember being in his arms, his voice soothing me as he brushed the ants off and applied balm.
Or on the day I was getting married, on my nikah- when all the family were on edge, fussing around to make sure things would go as planned and without a hitch, attending to the in laws, he stepped away from the chaos and he came up to my room. He shut the door behind him and came up to me and looked me dead in the eye and said to me quite bluntly, "if you change your mind about marrying him, just walk down the stairs to the car. I've spoken with the driver. He knows what to do. I will handle everything here. It's your choice to make and you have the option to choose, even today". In that moment I was empowered. On a day when brides feel confused, I felt very calm, supported, held, confident that no matter what I decided, someone had me covered.
Many years later when a man broke my heart and I cried and reached out to my father for comfort, he was there. He didn't have much to say but he listened, without judgment, and he said, "your heart will hurt until it stops hurting and then it will heal". It was very factual and very soothing. he didn't minimize the pain I was in, or tell me everything would be fine. He told me the truth. Acknowledged that there would be pain and I was up to the task of feeling pain and pain isn't forever.
On my 42nd birthday, when I was stressed about life and struggles, he was there. He said, "life isn't easy, and that's okay. You still live on.
There was a steady wisdom he imparted. Not fluff, but the kind of wisdom that is needed to live a solid life, bravely and with honor. A frank kind of wisdom. Wholesome. A wisdom of substance that grounds you and plants your feet firmly on terra firma so you can navigate life with purpose.
In all of these memories, I feel like I am a tiny kid- with big round eyes and he is there beside me, tall steady, holding my tiny hand in his reassuring big one, steadying me. And yet at the same time, I am also morphed into him, as I feel his wisdom exist intrinsically within me now. Everything he was, I have within me. He is with me. And I am okay. No matter what I face, I am okay. That is how I know he is always with me to this day. Because on the inside I feel okay.
I love you so much Abu jaan.
May Allah grant you a high place in jannah. May my soul be reunited with yours when I leave this earth so I may have more time with you in heaven inshallah.
