It seems frightening to me to know that we are entering a new decade. In all honesty, it’s made me feel really anxious, as if I’m leaving Papa behind.
I even feel weird talking about resolutions as if even making the littlest of plans is an acknowledgement that we are entering a new decade, one without my Papa. As the memories seem further away, out of my reach almost, I clutch photographs on him a little tighter.
I started this decade creating the most amazing memories with my Papa and my family.
2009 ended with the news that Papa was diagnosed with cancer. We anticipated the few months to follow would be difficult, but we never imagined our time would be limited with him.
1st January 2010 was spent celebrating his birthday and spoiling him as much as we could.
The rest of 2010 was a blur full of moments where we laughed with him, hugged him, thought of all the questions we could ask him, took as many pictures as we could with him, told him we loved him endlessly, spent hours reading duas hoping we could wake up from this nightmare, begging Allah (swt) if there was any way he could stay in this world with us, if one of us could take his place instead, trying to be strong in front of him, ending up crying in his arms, looking at his face and taking in every feature, every curve that his mouth made when he smiled, seeing the pain in his eyes and listening to him repeat to us all that Allah (swt) is the best of planners, making him promise not to stop visiting when he’s gone, telling him we are going to miss him.
Watching him take his last breath.
Carrying out his janazah and saying our final goodbyes to him.
Placing flowers on his grave.
Endless nights of wishing he would come back, that all of this is a nightmare. Studying pictures of him so we won’t ever forget his face.
Hating myself for forgetting what his voice sounded like and wishing to hear it one more time.
His perfume clinging to the air and me second-guessing that he could be here.
Seeing someone with their back to me who resembles him and following the person only to realise that it’s not him. He’s gone.
Watching kids with their Dads and wishing I could be in their shoes.
Hearing his favourite songs and wanting to listen to them on repeat.
Wearing his clothes to make me feel closer to him.
Crying in my room in hopes that he’ll hear me and come back.
Putting one foot in front of the other and never giving up, knowing that he’d want me to carry on.
Wondering whether I’m making him proud.
Papa..I miss you so much.
Where have the past ten years gone?