Atuk, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I don’t remember saying that I love you. Have I ever? I’m so sorry, atuk. I’m sorry I haven’t been praying in 3 years. But since your death I have started again. I’m sorry for all the things which I did, those which have wronged you and those which I wish didn’t happen. I’m sorry I didn’t call you every week, let alone every month. I was never the one to call; I only waited for your call. I didn’t even wait. The thought hardly crossed my mind, and now I wish it did. For if I had called more and we had talked more then I wouldn’t be so full of regret.
For that is the saddest thing, to be full of regret. I am sorrier for myself for being like this, for being so full of regrets. I can’t right any wrongs, I can’t undo anything and I can’t do anything because you’re gone. Gone in a way that isn’t traceable, isn’t retractable. I love you atuk, I love the way you talked, laughed, sung, and I loved the way you talked about your wife and your kids. If I could record every single thing you talked about, I could.
I can’t deal with this, atuk; I can’t deal with your death. I thought I could, but I think it would take years for me to get over it. I really wish I saw you more. Why didn’t i? I was so stupid. All the things I thought were important, all the things I chased, all those things are so minute compared to you, your existence and your going away.
This loss, I can’t measure it. It’s wider than the ocean, deeper than where my heart is. It’s in everyone I see, it’s in everything I hear and it’s everything I think about. It’s like a shadow I can’t walk away from. I don’t know when I can be truly happy anymore. I love you, I love you, I love you, atuk, and how I loved you. But back when you were alive I couldn’t feel that love, it wasn’t alive, it wasn’t fresh, for it was rooted. The love only surfaced when I saw you lying in the hospital bed, alive yet lifeless. You looked so vulnerable and I felt so lost. I couldn’t do anything to help. I didn’t even pray. All I did was cry and ask for forgiveness and hope you get better. If I had prayed, would you have gotten better? I doubt so, but I know it would have made a difference.
I’ve always had this belief that you are eternal, that you would never die. Of course I knew the aesthetics of things, and of life, but I didn’t want it to be true. I thought you would live till I got married, I thought you would live till I bore my own child. I would have wanted to share you with my child. I would have wanted to share you with everybody. I would have wanted to watch you grow really, really old, and die till I got settled. Those were such selfish thoughts, such self-centered thoughts, but that was how I felt. I didn’t even consider the fact that God won’t let you wait for such humble plans of mine.
I am nothing compared to what was planned the day your fate was written when you were in your mother’s womb. I love you, I miss you, I want to hear your voice atuk. I want to hear you cite the surahs and I want to hear you say my name. Funny, the last thing I remember you saying to me was how physically big I was, and I remember thinking that you should lay off me. I don’t wish for it now. That would be the last thing for me to wish, if I had known that you were to be taken so swiftly away from me. Away from the world, from the sky, from the grass. Taken away and brought back to the Earth.
I’m such a wreck, atuk. I’m nobody, I’m probably not even one-eighth of what you were, I wish I was. I wish I was like you, so positive, so vivid, and so full of life, even when things were taken away from you. I wished I was more patient, more accepting, for I am neither. I am not patient, I am not accepting. For if I were, I would not be crying, I would not be regretting. I would be happy, happy that you are no longer here, that you are no longer suffering. But then what would I do, atuk? What would I do without you, what am I without you? I am nothing without something from the past. I am nothing without my grandfather. I am nothing, and you were everything. You are the love that I never acknowledged, that I took for granted. I love you, I miss you, and I hope your journey to Heaven will be smooth-sailing.
i wish you were here to help me get through this.
With all the love…waalaikummussalam.
For that is the saddest thing, to be full of regret. I am sorrier for myself for being like this, for being so full of regrets. I can’t right any wrongs, I can’t undo anything and I can’t do anything because you’re gone. Gone in a way that isn’t traceable, isn’t retractable. I love you atuk, I love the way you talked, laughed, sung, and I loved the way you talked about your wife and your kids. If I could record every single thing you talked about, I could.
I can’t deal with this, atuk; I can’t deal with your death. I thought I could, but I think it would take years for me to get over it. I really wish I saw you more. Why didn’t i? I was so stupid. All the things I thought were important, all the things I chased, all those things are so minute compared to you, your existence and your going away.
This loss, I can’t measure it. It’s wider than the ocean, deeper than where my heart is. It’s in everyone I see, it’s in everything I hear and it’s everything I think about. It’s like a shadow I can’t walk away from. I don’t know when I can be truly happy anymore. I love you, I love you, I love you, atuk, and how I loved you. But back when you were alive I couldn’t feel that love, it wasn’t alive, it wasn’t fresh, for it was rooted. The love only surfaced when I saw you lying in the hospital bed, alive yet lifeless. You looked so vulnerable and I felt so lost. I couldn’t do anything to help. I didn’t even pray. All I did was cry and ask for forgiveness and hope you get better. If I had prayed, would you have gotten better? I doubt so, but I know it would have made a difference.
I’ve always had this belief that you are eternal, that you would never die. Of course I knew the aesthetics of things, and of life, but I didn’t want it to be true. I thought you would live till I got married, I thought you would live till I bore my own child. I would have wanted to share you with my child. I would have wanted to share you with everybody. I would have wanted to watch you grow really, really old, and die till I got settled. Those were such selfish thoughts, such self-centered thoughts, but that was how I felt. I didn’t even consider the fact that God won’t let you wait for such humble plans of mine.
I am nothing compared to what was planned the day your fate was written when you were in your mother’s womb. I love you, I miss you, I want to hear your voice atuk. I want to hear you cite the surahs and I want to hear you say my name. Funny, the last thing I remember you saying to me was how physically big I was, and I remember thinking that you should lay off me. I don’t wish for it now. That would be the last thing for me to wish, if I had known that you were to be taken so swiftly away from me. Away from the world, from the sky, from the grass. Taken away and brought back to the Earth.
I’m such a wreck, atuk. I’m nobody, I’m probably not even one-eighth of what you were, I wish I was. I wish I was like you, so positive, so vivid, and so full of life, even when things were taken away from you. I wished I was more patient, more accepting, for I am neither. I am not patient, I am not accepting. For if I were, I would not be crying, I would not be regretting. I would be happy, happy that you are no longer here, that you are no longer suffering. But then what would I do, atuk? What would I do without you, what am I without you? I am nothing without something from the past. I am nothing without my grandfather. I am nothing, and you were everything. You are the love that I never acknowledged, that I took for granted. I love you, I miss you, and I hope your journey to Heaven will be smooth-sailing.
i wish you were here to help me get through this.
With all the love…waalaikummussalam.
posted by l'excessive at 9:32 PM
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