This Ramadan, I think of those who’ve left us behind…
Something always feels amiss
Iftar time is the hardest
Something’s always lacking no matter how full our table is
The house is decorated like always; with Quran recitation in the background, I prep meals with a smile on my face, but a heavy heart within. My mind subconsciously keeps waiting for your call. I find myself checking my phone sometimes…just in case.
My phone’s gone silent.
Few minutes just before iftar were always filled with duas for your long and healthy life. I don’t know how to pray for you anymore without having my heart ripped apart, wretchedly in pieces.
Iftar gatherings seem desolate. I’m decked up as nicely as I can; I put in effort conscientiously and yet, it feels lonely, even when I’m surrounded by a room filled with people.
I miss your innocent, loving smile. I miss that rare, carefree laughter of yours. Your simple but immaculate, soft shalwar kameez, fragrant with a warm scent of itr.
I try to make what you liked – your favourite black chana; Roohafza some days, lassi some other.
I make them exactly the way you did, but the dishes have lost their flavour.
How will I celebrate this Eid without you? Who will I show my henna to? Who will the kids click their pictures for? How will my Eid shopping not include a new shalwar kameez for you this year?
May you know how badly you’re missed. That radiant face of yours.
I do believe your world is much better than this world of ours. I like to think the Almighty has taken away all your pain and placed you in a much happier, lovelier world than ours.
May you be feasting lavishly amongst those you love. May you always have the Almighty’s choicest angels look after you.
There’s only so much love, so much pain this little heart can contain. May the Almighty’s most beautiful angels carry the universe of a love in my heart for you, and present it to you in the form of a precious little Eid gift…
From my world to yours…
Until we meet again…
♥️
Many many hugs, Sanobar. ❤️