Have you ever saw a patient fighting for life with death?
My father was diagnosed Cancer back in Feb 2016. I came to know about it, after his death. I always believed that my father in a way is too good person to harm someone, or to be harmed back. But cancer chooses people unbiasedly, actually death chooses people unbiasedly - You are never too old or never too young to die.
One of the thing my father always told me was, We all are here to die. He would tell me, "when its time for him to go, even if he will be healthy, he will have to go". My Father, Alhumdulil'lah was a believer. He believed in Allah. He believed in death. But, I did see him fighting to live, ofcourse not for himself, but for us. Oneday, When he was ill, I told him when will you get well, I am tired to see you on bed! He replied that, "Even if I get well, someday I still will have to die". But I know, he wanted to live for us. One of the audio clips we have, when he was on death bed, he says there, "this is so painful, and the only reason I don't want give up on life are my daughters"
When I look for myself today, I don't think it was just dad who died, but we all did ( my family and me). Cancer did not steal just dad from us, but also a major part of us. I see the unfilled cracks of his separation in my soul, that no richs, and pleasure can fill. I miss him, And sometimes, it feels like I have loss myself in that process. But we are believers, And, we have to believe in death. We have to accept this life, like all the pleasures of this world, are temporary. We don't get to choose death, death chooses us. Death is meant to be, sooner or later.
I miss dad, I miss him everytime I am breathing, Everytime I am writing. Missing him is constant. I miss the person, who bought light to my life by educating me. I remember, When I was very young, and when he will pray, I will pray with him. Repeat everything that he says. My father build in me, a person - Kind enough to help anyone unbiasedly, anytime and strong enough to refuse pleasures at the stake of self respect.
One of the most beautiful thing, My father did for me is teaching me the etiquettes of Islam. He never prioritised this life, over the world hereafter, and I am glad he taught us all same.
I remember, how he used to stand for prayers even when he was too ill.
I remember our last eid, and, all he said was to recite a Naat sharief for him. I remember, how he touched my freshly pierced ears for the first and last time. I remember, how badly he wanted to see me as an engineer, and how proud he was of all his daughters.
Sometimes, I do feel I have not been a good daughter, never good enough. But I know, No matter where I am, what I do, How messed up, How cracked, How ashamed, If it's my father he will embrace me in his arms.!
I miss you dad, Always!!
Tery Wasal sy, tery hijr'a tak.
mery ishq ka "ع" tum sy hain..
What are searching from my books?
A poem, that sounds like my Azaadi Anthem;
Or an art, that portraits my gun?
Are you searching for a reason, to slap me with an PSA,
Or you are just showing me the path, that, I should choose -
Choose Gun over pen!!