Abbu this is for you

Dear Dad

I turned 22 yesterday. Another birthday has come and gone and your absence was missed every single second of the whole day. So, I felt like writing a letter to you just randomly. About stuff.

For as long as I can remember, I have always found you to be my hero. None of the qualities I found in you could be found in any one else. I remember your laughter, so vibrant; it still feels like music in my ears. I remember the twinkle in your eye especially before you were about to tell a joke. I remember your grace and how everyone who knew you always respected you. I remember your voice (even though I forget it at times), the voice that used to comfort me day and night. I remember you. Vaguely, yes, but I try to remember everything that I possibly can.

I remember your perfume, the one you used to rub on my cheeks before you left for work. I remember your smile when I used to wake you up on weekends, with a kiss on the cheek. I remember being fascinated with you shaving your face, and I always used to stand in awe while you shaved. I remember your cup of tea which you used to drink while you were driving to work. I remember your love for gol gappay and limoo soda, which you could have, but I was usually not allowed because it wasn’t good for my health. I remember how you used to know every time I’d used the computer without your permission.

I remember how you ran behind all of us with a camera, on every occasion, whether it was a family gathering or a huge occasion like Eid or some wedding, making sure you captured every moment, every smile, and every laughter on camera. I remember your love for hiking and taking us all to Pir Sohawa, making a day trip out of it, after which we would come home so exhausted but happy with the outing. I remember the cake for every birthday of mine that I remember, every cake more delicious than the one the year before.

I remember the love for my mother and your own mother. I remember your love for your siblings. I remember you waiting anxiously for your only brother to come to Pakistan from Canada so that you could spend some quality time with him, and eat pastries together, something that you loved. I remember your love for everyone who came to our house, be it immediate family or distant relatives, be it close friends or acquaintances, everyone was welcomed with a warm smile and our doors were always open to everyone alike. I remember how our house used to be full of guests coming over to meet you, and be in your company, friendly and extremely contagious that it was.

I remember your death. Every single moment of that day and the following to come have been embedded in my mind, something my mind refuses to forget. I remember that even in death, you were as handsome as you were alive, so at peace and with such a beautiful smile on your face. Anyone could have mistaken it for you having a good dream. I, however, don’t remember saying goodbye to you, because I could not believe I would not be able to think of it. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve still said goodbye.

I’ve written a lot about you. Some people say I’m depressed. Others say I’m seeking attention. Yet others ask me to just move on. But I tell them I’m none of the above. I’m just a girl who misses her dad like it’s a burning pain inside, and who needs to talk to him, have conversations with him, even if they are one-sided, because she knows that her father is listening from up above. And that he is watching over her come what may. So I write. Regardless of how many times, of how much, I write about you. To let my sadness go through my words, to remember you, to let everyone know how much of a precious gem you were. Most of all, I write about you to keep your memory alive. I try to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything about you. Because now it’s words, pictures, memories and stories that keep your memory alive. I wouldn’t want to forget a single thing about you. And I hope I never do.

I just want to let you know that no matter how old I grow, I will always be that little girl who was scared of everything unless you consoled me. I will still be that little girl at heart who has weird ideas and says stupid things and has a hot temper. I know you’re watching from above, and that is what gives me hope. All I want is to tell you I love you, Dad. I know you’re in a much better place, but that doesn’t make this hurt any less. *blows a kiss* watch over me, always. I love you. And no one can ever fill the hole that you left. I’ve learned to live with it, maybe I don’t want anyone to fill it. Does that make any sense? I hope it does to you.

Sometimes, I feel you’re alive. I can hear your voice as if you’re actually speaking to me. I can feel you sitting right beside me. It would scare the crap out of most people, but I somehow find peace in that. Then there are dreams I have about you that are so realistic that I wake up in a delusion that you’re still alive. I don’t know what’s worse in that situation – dreaming an awesome dream about you, or waking up to find out that if was only a dream.

I just want to let you know that I love you abbu. I can’t emphasize this enough. Hope you know that.

Your little girl,

Saniya