I lost my dad on 14 December 2012.
It will come to two years soon.
I never thought I’d say this ever, but I miss him. I miss his wry humour and his wisdom. We were never close but I guess it’s true when they say you never really miss it until it’s gone.
Our conversations are usually limited to the occasional how-are-yous (me) and can-you-please-buy-me-ciggies (him).
The only time we’ve had a proper conversation was in my car few weeks before his death. The content of the conversation shall remain within the confines and voices in my head. Suffice to say, my heart broke a million pieces to see him share his vulnerabilities. I was also grateful though, that he shared his feelings that day.
The old Ayah would never allow anyone to see his weaknesses. He is a proud, proud man, to his detriment. He would be in pain, at the hospital, but refused to divulge to the doctor because “it’s not good to trouble people”.
I think I might have some of his pride – which could also be our downfall.
But you know – it’s not good to trouble people.
Al-Fatihah, Ayah. I miss you.