Three years

Three years. Three whole years, without you in the same world as us.

You are everywhere. Your advice and your words live in our heads. Your love, your shelter surrounds us in this house that is our home now. Your memories, your life is everywhere we turn, in photos and videos, in the things that surround us, in these roads and this city. Your values and your thoughts, live in the words you wrote, and live through us and in the persons we become. Thank you for everything Papa.

Miss you. May Allah bless you in that next life and may we be reunited in Jannah¹ inshaAllah.

Thanks for reading.

---

FYI

¹Jannah. The Arabic word for Heaven and commonly used by Muslims.

Scents and Memories.

There is a face wash that sits in my shower area. I bought it in 2008 when I was visiting my family for a few months in Karachi¹. That trip of mine was the last time all five of us were together as a family (the only time after that was when my dad was sick and in the hospital). This face wash, by Johnson's has a pretty typical light-powdery smell. And I just have to close my eyes as I lather it on my face, to be transported to that time all those years ago. I inhale the scent and I remember it all. Standing under the cold water in that small bathroom I shared with my sister on those typically Karachi hot summer days… The comfort of my parent's house knowing Mama and Papa were just around somewhere.. Going for walks with Mama in the evenings through the dusty Malir² roads and sitting outside on the road with Papa at night when the lights went out.. So many random memories go through my head as I close my eyes and let the scent carry me away.

There is a perfume, a men's perfume by Junaid Jamshaid that my mom got for Papa. During that time in the hospital, my dad always smelled of that, his things that all came back from the hospital after him, the clothes, his rumaal or handkerchiefs, my mom's pink and blue flower pillow that he used to lay his head on, his chaddar or long scarf that he used to wrap around himself, everything had that perfume and his scent in them. My parents gifted Bilal the same perfume a few years earlier and I'm glad that he never got round to using it much. Now it lies safe in a drawer under my bed. I can never smell that fragrance again without being reminded of my father, but also cancer, that hospital, the fear, the despair, and just a wrenching feeling in the heart, but yet also my father. So whenever I miss him, and want to feel his presence, I take this perfume out, and as my heart tugs at my soul, I slowly open it, close my eyes, and surround myself with him, his fragrance and the memories of the days when he was there.

Memory is a strange thing, how these precious moments are just a thought/ a whiff of a scent/a familiar song/ away, but yet, however much we want to relive them, too far beyond our grasp.

Please say a little prayer for my father and my family as you read this. Some days it is still hard, the realization that he’s not there.

Thanks for reading.

---

FYI

¹Karachi, a coastal city located in the south, is the largest city of Pakistan.

²Malir, is a neighborhood of Karachi, where my parent’s lived.

My dad, the PAF, and a quick shadow frame to honor his life.

My dad was a proud aeronautical engineer in the Pakistan Air force and we grew up in those bases in all corners of the country. It was an amazing childhood full of all things that make it memorable and because of that, among many other things, the PAF holds a very special place in my heart.

The memory of my dad immaculately dressed in his uniform and looking so handsome is the first one that comes to mind most of the time when I think of him. And those shiny medals that were a part of it, continued to grow as we grew up. Of course it was not always happy, and I also remember his stressful times. I remember always knowing that being in the military, my dad would have to choose his country over us. But that itself was a huge source of pride for us.

All those years of being a part of the Air force family, the postings, the changing of schools, the excitement at each promotion my dad got, the houses that were home to us for a few years and which we had to say goodbye to ultimately, the friends we met and parted with at different bases, became such a huge part of us that we were more upset than Papa was when he retired suddenly.

And so out of all the things that belonged to my dad, and that we found hard to part with, some of the things we couldn't let go of, were his medals and uniforms. We all kept a few of these and I knew I wanted to display these somewhere to remind me of my father and the life he chose for himself and us.




Used adhesive velcro  (similar to this) to stick the items inside the shadow frame found at Marshalls.



Have you ever displayed treasured items using a shadow frame?

Thanks for reading and lots of love.

World Cancer Day

Today I think of my father and Bilal’s eldest sister, and the disease that took them away from us. I think of all the men, women and little kids that get diagnosed with this terrible disease every single day. I think of the families that get affected, that watch their loved ones go through the heartbreaking treatments, and the ones that have lost a loved one to it. I think of all the people that live in fear of it, and I hope. I hope for a cure. I pray and I hope.

For the ones that are fighting cancer, or have a loved one fighting it. For the ones that have lost family or a friend to it. You are not alone. And for the ones that have gone through the journey and are cancer-free now, you are truly brave and an inspiration to us all. May Allah bless us and our loved ones and keep us safe from life-altering diseases. Ameen

Please consider donating to Cancer research today. Let us all contribute in finding a cure and in helping save lives of those affected.

Thanks for reading and Much Love.

---

If you’re not sure where to donate, here are two links,

The Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Cancer Center in Seattle, Washington, is one of the leading cancer research institutes where scientists research the prevention, early detection and treatment of cancer.

The Shaukat Khanum Memorial Cancer Hospital and Research Centre in Lahore, Pakistan, is a state-of-the-art non-profit cancer research center and hospital.

Finding hope in times of grief.

picture by my sister, Waliya.

I can't begin to thank you enough for all the comments received when I shared the story about losing my daddy here last year. My sister and I have received messages from countless people who shared their own stories of loss. Some said they understood the pain, some asked for advice on dealing with their own tragedies. I wanted to share some of the things that gave strength and hope through our grief specially in the first year. 

When we go through a tragic time in our life and once the realization has set in, you need some kind of motivation to go on. You need some hope that you're not alone and that your heart will feel less broken someday. Here are some of the things that helped heal my broken heart a little bit at a time.

Faith

'To Him we belong and to Him is our final return' just said it all for me. And just reading these words makes it easier every time just like so many other verses from the Quran. They just put it all in perspective. That this life is not all we are striving for and we all must go one day, it's not such a big surprise is it! As well as knowing that God is all powerful and knows what is in the hearts of people, He knows cruelty, He is more fair than anything else, and the ones that have continuously tried to hurt us after Papa, thinking we are helpless, Allah knows.

Having faith that even when we doubt being able to smile or laugh again, Papa will want us to be happy and that he in in a much better place now iA. Believing that Papa will be proud of us knowing we stood on our feet and stood up for each other through this tragic time.

Believing that this had to happen, the way it happened, and when it happened and we could've done nothing to change even a small part of it. There will always be days when you go over it in your head, wishing for things to be different, but reminding yourself every time that it happened the way it was destined to. It breaks your heart a little less knowing that.

Family and Friends

taken by my sister, Waliya

My daughter was the biggest strength for me. And without her, I really don’t think I or my whole family would've been able to survive like we did. Babies have no idea of the enormity that has happened, and for them you have to continue to live. Just like you have to go on for the sake of your loved ones. We lost one of us, and it makes the rest of us that much more precious to each other. Anything can happen anytime and our families are our most important asset. With and for each other we slowly started smiling and laughing and finding strength because NO ONE understands this pain the way the four of us do.

I went through a phase where I found it hard to be around some of my friends. My relationship changed with some friends, and I made many new friends. Going through a tragedy is a hard time for your relationships. I had become a different person and my perspective on so many things just changed. I became more sensitive in certain ways. I tried to be around people that made me feel happy and tried to stay away from the ones that didn't understand my pain or expected me (or I got the feeling that they did) to just laugh and smile and be normal again. In retrospect, I have learned that loss and death is an uncomfortable subject for many people so talking to just anyone about it won't heal your heart.

I was also lucky to know friends that had experienced loss at some point in their lives and just being around them made me feel better and stronger. I talked about it here once. My network in Seattle helped me in many ways, the playdates, the coffee with friends, the normalcy of life despite it all, even though seemed pointless specially in those early days, made me get back to normal life little by little.

Music/Movies and Books

Songs I had listened to so many times before without feeling anything, made me weep like a crazy woman, because suddenly I felt like I could connect to them. Somewhere in that pain, it felt like I wasn't alone. So many people go through tragedies and it takes courage to put these into words, in art, in songs, in any kind of creative medium. And that inspired me or made it bittersweet. In some way it made it a little easier to feel the pain. Two favorites became, Without you by David Guetta and Pee Jaun by Farhan Ali Khan.

I read a lot of memoirs during this time, sad books, but all that spoke of hope and living through the challenges and tragedies that touch our lives. Some of my favorite became Two kisses for Maddy, Three weeks with my brother and The rules of inheritance.

I love reading inspiring words and have a collection of inspiring quotes on Good Reads and Pinterest, many of them bittersweet and sad, but inspiring at some level. Many of you follow my sister Waliya's page on Facebook where she combined many such beautiful sad words with her images to tell her story.

Writing, Art and Creativity

taken by Waliya

I got back to blogging in April of 2012, less than three months after my dad left. For me it became a place where I could find hope in that pain, share my thoughts and stories. All three of us sisters, have put our dad's life and the way he left us in words in one way or another. There is catharsis in writing and painting and art and in finding a way to express that pain. Waliya and I found a whole different meaning to our photography. We both chose to share our story with the people that followed our photography on Facebook and are immensely grateful for the love received through there.

For me, another thing that helped was keeping a little journal of my dad's memories. I find it heartbreaking that my dad wasn't able to experience being a grandfather, and that Anya will never know him. A friend gave me the idea to write down memories in a journal, and I try to jot down the most random-est of memories of my father. I can tell Anya all these little stories over the years about him, so even if she wont know him, she will know lots about him. And that makes me feel a little better.

Everyone’s recovery through grief is different and these are a few of the many things that have given me hope and strength. You also pass through different stages and each person’s journey is unique. If you have experienced tragedy and are struggling to stand up again, I hope some of this will give you some sort of encouragement.

Thanks for reading.

Your words will guide me.

My dad wrote me this email. I was returning from Pakistan after attending my sister’s wedding. Because of some visa issues I had to return the very next morning after the Valima¹ and I left the event early to pack for my flight the next morning. I had a huge lump in my throat throughout. It had been an emotional and stressful couple of months because of my dad’s sudden job loss because of the government change in Pakistan, planning my sister’s wedding in Islamabad while living in Karachi² and just the emotional baggage that comes with a wedding, and just the Pakistani summer heat that makes everything harder.

Just a few hours after Papa and Mama dropped me at the airport the next morning (and a painful goodbye as always. I am terrible at airports!),  I stood at the public internet terminals at the Dubai airport and read the words that will stay with me forever. I still don’t know when he found the time to write the email in all that pre and post wedding chaos. I stood in the middle of the airport, reading Papa’s words as tears just flowed. Like most dads mine was also not very expressive but he had the gift of words and whenever he did express his love for us, it went straight to the heart. What I didn’t know then was how much more this email would mean to me a few years down the road!

Three and a half years later, when I returned from Pakistan after Papa passed away, the first thing I did was print that email and put it up on my refrigerator where I could see it all the time. Reading it in those early days felt like he was talking to me, and it gave me motivation to go on. It guided me through those painful early months. It is so amazing the impact of our words. When we write them we don’t really know the places they will reach and the time barriers they will cross. Even when my father isn’t there, the words he wrote remain. Every time it is feeling especially hard to get through the realization in my head that I cant talk to him, I read these words and I feel peace in my heart. It is like he is talking to me, it is like he knows, he understands how hard it has been, and in a strange way, he is guiding me on how to get through this.

Though he wrote them years before he passed away, it seems like they were written for right now, for this time for our fears and tears, and the struggles we face today. Papa you were and always will remain our hero and our guide. Thank you for everything. May you always be in God’s best care. Ameen.

Thanks for reading and stopping by.

---

FYI

¹Valima is translated as a marriage feast and the second of the two traditional parts of an Islamic wedding and its arranged by the groom’s family.

²Islamabad, the capital, and Karachi, the largest city, are almost 1000 miles apart in distance and are very different cities in their own ways.

Ties that bind.

A good friend of mine was visiting Seattle recently and it was amazing in the way that meeting old friends always is. However this time it was slightly different. She lost her brother in a tragic accident early this year and except for a couple times that I met her in the days following that, we were meeting properly for the first time. She and I talked about life, its fragility and unpredictability, about my father and her brother, and the things that have strengthened us. Life is strange like that, the bonds we automatically feel with those that have lost a loved one just like us. Because we all feel the pain of each other. We have been there. In a strange way, our tragedies become the ties that bind us together.

When I returned to Seattle last year after my dad passed away, I will never forget how this one friend, who I barely knew then, said she wanted to come over. She had lost her dad 7 years ago, and as she sat with me and told me her story, I felt consoled. I felt hope through the tears that kept pouring down my face, because she had been through a similar battle and here she was sitting in front of me, having the courage to tell her story where I could barely tell mine to my own head. And that she had survived through it. I remember asking her questions about her journey, about her family, and her strength gave me strength.

I had another friend who had lost her dad many years ago and some of the things she had said while telling me about that time kept going through my head in the days my father passed away. Suddenly the things she had said, which I had even found strange earlier as I couldn’t relate to them, started making sense. As my family went through tragedy, I felt the exact same things that she had described to me that first time we had met a couple years before that. It was this same friend some months later who came to my house for an Eid party at our place, and saw the picture of my dad and Anya on my fridge, and just couldn't stop her tears. In the middle of a happy house full of people celebrating Eid, we were hugging each other with tears streaming down our faces. I will never forget that moment. We both knew in our hearts, that even through joy, even through celebrations, at the back of our thoughts were our dads who were not in this world to share these joys with us anymore.

And there are so many more of such little stories. Of all those that reached out just to say that they knew how it feels. Of those that lost loved ones after I lost Papa, and I felt their loss like my own. Because every time you hear the news of someone losing a loved one, you start remembering your own time, your own feelings, your own helplessness.

To lose someone is to lose a piece of yourself forever, and only someone who has been that, who has felt that vulnerable and helpless can understand it that way. And sometimes you need someone in your life that can understand your pain that way, even if you don’t talk about death or pain or your loved one. The bonds we form with these people feel so strong, I can't explain it. With people I have never talked to or met, that send me and my sister all those messages about their loved ones that they lost. I feel it, I feel their pain like mine.

As humans, these become are most intimate of connections, like invisible bonds that connect us, our losses and our challenges and our difficulties, hold the power to bring us closer. I feel myself so lucky that in some of the worst days of my life, I had people in my life that gave me hope. I saw their strength, I saw their courage, I saw the lives they had made for themselves and it renewed hope that I and my family will be fine. I am so thankful to God for them and so thankful to them for reaching out. I remember each and everyone of them and I will never forget.

Just wanted to write about this. Thanks for reading.

What I learned from my father

Happy Fathers day to you, your daddy and, if you have kids – the daddy of your beautiful babies. Very early on in our lives, our fathers become our first heroes and for us girls it is hard not to compare any man that comes into our lives to our first hero.

As I watch my husband with our daughter and this beginning of a beautiful lifelong relationship inshAllah, I think of my dad a lot, and all the things that made up one of the most beautiful childhoods one could’ve asked for. Our fathers are special to us and so was ours. He was the one that had our back always. Whatever came our way, this world never felt unsafe, because of course we had Papa, and he was always just a phone call away. He was the one that believed in us, always. He was the one that wanted us to dream bigger and higher always. In a country where many consider it unfortunate to have only daughters, he treated us like we were better than any sons and always told us that there was nothing we couldn’t do. Without him, today, it actually feels like we lost a part of our backbone and our support. Life changed forever in the instant that he left. 

On this father’s day I just wanted to remember all the things that were a part of him and all the things that he passed on to us. Whether he is with us or not, he lives through us in the many pieces of him that are within us, our thoughts and our personalities.

Papa, this one’s for you.

Things I hope to learn/have learned from my father.

 

1. Hard work and dedication. My dad was the hardest working person I have ever known. Through example he taught us that when you do your job, do it with purpose, with your whole heart, without worrying if it will pay off or not. He taught us to go the extra mile. I especially remember his dedication to any task he was on. I remember the many nights he’d be working on presentations or his speeches till late, making sure they were as close to perfect as could be. Before my sister’s wedding, we were making this video for her and all of us hurriedly wrote a few words for her, but I remember when I went to Papa, he took his time. He wrote a rough draft first and then came up with the most beautiful tribute ever. That was just how he was.
2. Responsibility and dependability. He was the kind of person one could depend on always. Not just as a dad, but whenever anyone needed any kind of help from him, they knew he’d go out of his way. And as a dad, I remember how every night he would check all the doors, I remember how if we had to travel alone, he would even print out maps of the transit airports for us so we don’t get lost, I remember how he’d tell us that he had insured our educations so incase something happened to him we’d be able to continue. Being from humble backgrounds and making ends meet on a limited government pay, he managed his finances such that he’d be able to give us the best educations available and save enough money to build the house he wanted for our family.  
3. Raising daughters. Being from Pakistan, where many still believe it a bad omen to not have sons, he never let us feel any less. He instilled in us the importance of a good education and always motivated us to be our best possible selves, educationally and professionally. He believed in us and kept telling us we could do whatever we put our mind to. I remember how excited he was, when the Pakistan Air Force starting including girls as engineers and pilots, because he truly believed women can do anything.
4. Driving. My mom always said he was one of the best drivers around and he I don’t remember him losing his temper much while he was teaching us. I especially remember how he had more confidence in us than ourselves, stopping the car in crowded Karachi streets and telling us to take the wheel. Despite our reluctance, he would always insist we can do it. When I drive now, his voice is in my head continuously, as I remember the little things he taught me. Papa also insisted how important it was to know what’s under the hood too. He taught us basic things like being able to check oil life, pointing out the parts under the hood, even changing the tyres. I was going to take more lessons from Papa on my next trip and we had talked about it on the phone, but that could never happen.
5. DIYs. My dad loved fixing things, cars, computers, electronics/appliances etc. He was an engineer at heart and despite his busy schedule would find time to attempt to fix many of these things on his own. He’d always try to involve us in the process, explain the workings, what he was doing etc. I remember so many weekend mornings where he would be in his overalls, surrounded by his tools and busy fixing one thing or the other.  
6. Importance of routine. All of his forces life, Papa had a regular routine that he followed. He was particular about what he ate, about exercising, about sleeping on time. He used to be the first one up in our house. Before he went to bed, I remember his knock on our doors, asking us what time we had to leave the next day, and suggesting we sleep on time, before he said good night, hugged us and went to his room. A proper routine gave him a way to include much more in his days.
7. Sports and Health. He loved his sports and all my life I saw him involved in one or another. From Squash in his younger days, to Tennis and lately Golf. I remember how much he’d encourage us to get involved in some sport too. I remember how on one of his trips to the US,  he brought us tennis racquets instead of the usual things that people would bring. He was so proud of my sister, Nadiya, because she took his love for tennis and was a great player herself. He and both my sisters loved watching tennis together on TV. He also loved his morning walks and I remember when I had sinus headaches he told me that the fresh morning air helps. I started going with him in the mornings and he was right, within a few days the headaches were gone. Even now, I think of his advice when I start getting headaches.
8. A principled life. In Pakistan, where everyone tries to find a way around the law, Papa would refuse to let us use the cars he would get for his official use, even though everyone around us would be coming to school in them. He would always follow what the rules said. When we complained he would tell us that just because others were doing something wrong, didn’t mean that we could too. He only let us use the cars and drivers that were given to him, when they were officially allowed.
9. Patience in adversity. I remember my dad as nothing but brave. Always. We saw him go through various hard times during his life, but never saw him give up or lose hope. He was always ready to fight. During his last two months, in the terrible condition that he was, I never heard him complaining or losing hope. He still tried to joke, love us and still kept asking us how we were.  
10. Photography. Even though he didn't officially teach us but he truly inspired us. The way he and my mom together recorded our childhoods, the pictures he took, the creative videos he used to make, inspire me today as I record my baby girl’s childhood. He bought his first video camera when I was a little baby, and loved experimenting, trying out new edits etc. Some of the video projects he did are still famous amongst his friends. 
11. Organizing. Papa was one of the most organized people I have seen. He had a file system for literally everything. Now when we look at it, it is amazing, how he took time to label everything, make separate files for all kind of things, and that is why he was able to manage everything so well.  As we move on and settle in our own lives, we take these lessons with us and try to apply them in our own homes. Besides these physical filing, he was an expert at databases. He used to tell us how he uses Lotus to organize all types of important records. It was one of those things that I wanted to learn in detail from him so I can use it for our home, but didn’t get that chance in the end.
12. Moderation and Balance. Papa had travelled all around the world and had many friends from different countries/religions during this time. He was regular with his prayers, patriotic but a true modern man in his views and would never impose his opinions or disrespect others’. He was able to maintain the perfect balance.  

And there is so much more besides this list, because the little things we learn from our daddies are endless and this is just a little attempt to summarize the important ones. What have you learned from your father?

Hope you celebrated your daddy today, and if yours has gone to that better world, pray extra hard for him and celebrate the memory of him. He is proud of you, know that.

Thank you for reading and for stopping by.

Go here to see the things I have learned from my mother, that I shared earlier on Mothers Day.

It was the worst of times

This is the story that I have been dreading to write but I think it is time. I don’t know if anyone will want to read it, because unlike the others on this blog, this isn’t inspiring or happy. It is sad. But it is our story and these words needed to be written.

On Dec 13th of last year I arrived in Islamabad, first time with my baby girl and the first time that Papa wasn’t there to pick me up at the airport. Instead he was lying in a hospital nearby recovering from serious brain surgery and getting ready for some severe treatments for his brain cancer. Mama and Waliya (my baby sister) came to pick me up and even though we were all smiling and enjoying Anya’s reactions to meeting everyone, underneath it all was a huge burden. Our beautiful little world was shattering in front of our eyes and all we could do was ask for strength to breathe, be strong in these difficult days and hope against hope that Papa (and us) would get through this.

Before this on the night of Nov 26th, only around 36 hours before Papa’s surgery, a doctor’s panel sat and told mama about the severity of papa’s situation. Their words, ‘we are not expecting a miracle’ hung in the air as Mama drove through pouring rain and tears, the 40 minutes back from the hospital to their home, where Waliya waited, all the while thinking how she will break the news to her. Even now when I imagine that time and what my baby sister and mom must have gone through, I cant stop my tears. I will wish forever that in those heart wrenching days, before, during and after Papa’s surgery, we were all together. To be a strength for each other and for Papa.

After the surgery on Nov 28th, as Nadiya (my sister who lives in the UK) and I waited miles across for any kind of good news, Mama and Waliya were ecstatic to see Papa through the Intensive Care Unit window as he tried to wave at them. They thought this was tremendous after brain surgery and thought that definitely the worst was behind them. Later on, Waliya couldn’t stop crying as she remembered those early days after surgery. How hard Papa use to try to get up initially and as he gained strength tried to walk a little further every day in the hospital hallway, because the doctors had told him that the sooner he’s able to get back on his feet, the sooner he’d be able to go home and he really really wanted to go home.

This progress continued for a few days. Nadiya and I were even able to talk to Papa on the phone and even though his speech was slurred, we were beyond relieved and thinking he’ll be better really soon. Meanwhile we all tried to swallow the dreaded C word. No one close to us had ever had cancer before. Nadiya and I kept reading things online to get more information, alternative therapy for cancer, diets for cancer patients, recovery from brain surgery, cancer survivor stories etc etc, all the while thinking that even though this would be the hardest battle we had fought in our lives, we all will get through this. We made plans of how to spend the most time with our family and how to be of most use. It was set, I would be with my family in the initial months and then when Papa gets back home from hospital, Nadiya would join us and help Papa in his recovery as she has always been very good in this way.

Anyways when I arrived and went to visit him the day of, it was the worst I have ever seen him. It is still very hard to remember him like that, but I will never be able to get that vision out of my head. I hid in my grandparents room on returning and tears streamed down my face as I called a cousin who is a doctor to ask her why he was in so much torture. Despite knowing the truth of the situation and understanding it better than any of us did, she told me the words I wanted to hear and I felt better.

In my research online, while still in Seattle, I had found out about the different types of brain cancers and GBM4 stayed with me because of the terrible prognosis. In my heart I continuously prayed that that wouldn’t be the one that Papa has. Little did I know that across the world, my mom was holding Papa’s reports that spelled out the exact words. But, she had no idea what it meant, except for that the doctors ‘weren’t expecting a miracle.’ Maybe it is in our culture, that we think the family cant take the truth, maybe we fear saying the words, the reactions. I still don’t know what is better, not telling it clearly enough, or telling it too clearly. I will always wonder. But all I know is that in those moments, the mixed signals, infuriated us like anything. We felt like the hospital, the doctors, weren’t doing enough. When we would ask about any symptoms that we were worrying us, all they would say is 'bas aap ko pata hee hai na iss disease ka' you know how (bad) this disease is. Sometimes we were told how great the surgery had been, then another doctor who'd visit would tell us how the tumor has already grown again. In retrospect, it was terrible and frustrating at the moment but maybe we wouldn't have wanted to believe even if we had been told clearly. Till the last day we believed that there would be a miracle and he would recover.

One week after I reached, Nadiya reached too. She decided that it was too much to be so far away and she just had to be with our dad. She gave Papa, Mama and Waliya exactly what they needed, what I wasn't able to give with a little baby to take care of. She gave Papa all her attention from morning till night, when we would come back home to rest for a few hours. She would remind him of funny moments we’ve had together and entertain him with her sense of humor. She would clean and organize Papa’s hospital room. She helped Mama manage all financial issues and she was with Waliya when they had to take Papa for the terrible radiation treatments. In the days after she reached, Papa would keep asking for his 'Nadu' all the time.

Weeks kept passing. Our days was spent at the hospital. Our nights were spent praying and trying to cheer ourselves up so we are ready for the next day with Papa. We did our best to arrive at the hospital with a smile on our face and no tears in our eyes for Papa to see. We wanted him to see us and instantly feel better, we wanted him to smile and be able to cheer him up. We would remember funny stories to tell to Papa to cheer him up.  Even in those terrible days, instead of looking like the gloom our hearts felt, we tried to dress up for Papa, so he feels good when he sees us and he would always notice.

There were many days when Papa was better, he would tell stories about his air force days. He remembered all the names of his friends and even teachers of his school/college days. He would discuss technology ideas with Bilal (my husband) when he reached. He would ask us to bring him particular foods and sweets. And he would ask about Anya a lot, 'where is the little traveller' with a twinkle in his eye.

On the other hand their were days when Papa would forget where he was, would ask for the same things repeatedly throughout the day, felt very restless and would keep changing his beds or chairs and not be able to find a comfortable place to rest, where he hardly talked or opened his eyes, and just kept thinking something, what? My heart will always ache to think of that.

In those one and a half month in the hospital, Papa had more visitors than we could possibly imagine. News of his illness travelled among his lifelong friends and colleagues and it was a huge shock to everyone. Papa was not yet 59, and had always kept very good health and he was the last person any of us could even imagine lying in bed in the condition he was in. Day in and day out, people visited, from all across the country. We have no count of them because they were far too many. It is truly in bad times that you realize your worth and of those around you and we truly realized how loved and respected our dad was. Except for one or two, Papa greeted them all by their names, always shaking their hands firmly and telling them he would be well soon.

Through all of this, through brain surgery, through the terrible recovery and the cancer treatments, through the endless discomfort, there was never a time that Papa complained about what he was facing. He was more brave than anyone I have seen and in that courage he left a huge example for us. He showed us how to stand tall in front of the toughest battles. He would talk about God a lot. He would recite verses from the Quran. One of the last things he said to us before he went into coma was ‘meri betiyan kitni bahadur hain’, my daughters are so brave.

And all this above, was only half the battle we were facing. The other was more painful in ways because it came from those we had always trusted and hit where it hurt the most. It is true that you find out the reality of people in hard times, and as this tragedy unfolded, many in our family turned their backs on us. Not stopping there even, they went to all extents to hurt us. We arrived at the hospital every morning, with our stomachs turning hoping that this would be the day we wont have to see their faces. They pained us like nobody ever can, their words stung, their hatred burned and in those days when we needed all the support we could, they kicked us where it hurt the most. The worst is that they did it all in front of Papa who was already so helpless at that point. He would try to calm them down, but when evil starts, it is hard to stop it. Their plans were only beginning to unfold but at that point all we could think of was Papa and it hurt us the most that they were hurting him when he needed to be given the most peace.

On Jan 12th, 2012, Papa had seizures since the morning, doctors didn't arrive till much later in the day and it wasn't until the night that he was shifted to a room near the Intensive Care. They told us he was in coma, but we saw him open his eyes a few times in the 5 days that followed, we thought he wanted to say something, we felt his hands tighten on ours, and we truly believed, or in retrospect wanted to believe, that he would get out of it. In those 5 days we literally started living at the hospital in my mama's little car, along with Anya as there was no one at home who could take care of her. I would nurse her in the freezing little car, and one of us would take care of her while the rest of us would take turns sitting at Papa's side. At Papa's side, we held his swollen hands and we read the Quran, we read Ayat ul Kursi, we read duas endlessly, we cried, we talked to those that came to see him and we hoped against hope.

Jan 17th, 2012, started like any other day, bright and sunny. Papa had had a temperature since the morning and we scolded the attendants that stayed with him for the night on why they didn't inform us so we could've come right then to be with Papa. We were sitting outside as Nadiya took her turn with Papa inside and her phone call to Mama from inside didn't feel normal. The rest of the memories all play in slow motion in my head but I still cannot put them in words, we waited outside, we cried, we prayed, they told us to stand outside, doctors nurses went in and out, and then just as suddenly as it had came upon us, it was over. Papa left us too fast and too soon, with so much that had to be said, and so much that he still had to finish, so much that we had to ask from him and tell him and show him, and so much that he had to tell us.

May Allah bless him and may that life be a source of eternal happiness and peace for him IA. And May we be blessed to be able to meet him again one day and hug him and tell him all that was left to say. Ameen.

FYI: Islamabad is the capital of Pakistan; Ayat ul Kursi: Verses from the Quran that are read for protection from all sort of worries; Dua: Prayer 



Thanks for reading this blog and for stopping by!

For my daddy

I wrote this on father’s day for my father but never posted it.



My dearest Papa,

How ironic, that this father's day coincides with the exact day you left us five months ago. Just like you would've wanted us to do, we are trying to move on, but your absence is felt every single day. I miss your warm concerned voice, always wanting to know if we are okay. I miss your gift of words, your beautiful emails, always motivating us to be better, telling us always that we can be do whatever we set our eyes on. I miss knowing that I can always call your number and be sure that if no one else is picking up their phone, you definitely will. I will miss your presence in the house you were building for us, the house you kept talking about, the house you said we can always come to, our children can always come to. Never could've imagined that when this dream of yours will be fulfilled, you wont be around to enjoy it and to welcome us when we come to visit you in it.

I miss being received by you every time I reached Pakistan and most of all being seen off by you at the airport. I will never forget that sight of you standing there and waving at me long after we had said our goodbyes and I was in the queue to go inside the departures lounge. Till the last glance was possible, I could turn around and see your face through the crowd, waving at me from above the people, and your eyes, your eyes said it all even if you didn't say much. I will miss you asking me every time I'd come how long i was there for, and then when i told you, smiling and saying 'Nahin bas hum rukwa leinge aur, flight postpone kara leinge'. And trying to convince me to postpone my flight till the last day. I will miss those endless cups of tea we would have every time I was over. I will miss seeing you sitting with your laptop in your bed surrounded by all those files of yours. I will miss knowing you are always there, knowing that if anything doesn't turn out right, you are always going to be there for us. I will miss having you visit us, like you had planned to, but which never happened. I will miss all of that and so much more.

And most of all I will miss seeing you with Anya, seeing the relationship I know you would've had with her. For all of my life i will wish that you had more time with us, if for nothing else but to meet your grand daughter properly, to hug her to love her to play with her to enjoy her, to laugh and smile with her. I will miss her having a nana jan to talk to and to talk about. It will not be the same without you. Your quiet, steady presence in our lives will be missed every single day of our lives.

May you be blessed in that next life and may Allah taala reward you for the great presence you were in so many lives and for raising your daughters in the best possible way. Ameen. Don't worry about us because you taught us well Papa, you prepared us for this day. We will be strong, we will get through this. We will make sure our losses turn us into better human beings iA. Happy Fathers Day Daddy, We will meet again inshAllah! May Allah bless you!

Your own,
Taiya.