May you rest in Peace...Ameen

I just found out that my Dad's grandma just passed away. SubhanAllah. Inna lilllahi wa Inna ilaihi Raajiioon. Everything belongs to Him and to Him we will return.

Dadda ammoo, as we would call her, has always been the umbrella of our family. Every year, when we would go to Karachi for Eid, as soon as the men would return from prayers, we would drive off to meet her. My earliest memories remember her as a frail lady - graceful nonetheless. even when i met her earlier this year, close to her mid 90's in age, her skin was radiant and glowing mashaAllah. With her alive, we were five generations together in Karachi this year. Now we're down to four. =(

As i grow older, one by one, the people whom I cherish seem to keep passing on. I wish their wisdom retains somehow. I sometimes wish, to be able to just turn around and ask my grandfather for an advice. Or simply listen to him. Every so often, on fridays I still open my inbox hoping for an email from him. I wish, but oh do I wish, that I hadnt hit delete on those emails. I still have one or two. But many, many are gone. Every eid, I picture him returning from namaz, in his clean, crisp white starched shalwar qameez, handing out money. Eids here are never the same. I miss the festivites at my my grandparents house in karachi. Everyone taking the effort to get new clothes made. Getting matching accessories. Cousins going shopping together. Spending chaand raat trying to give the house a new look - from new curtains to cushion covers (hand emroidered by my daadi herself) to bedsheets. Everything new came out on eid - just watching my grandparents glow at the new look is a memory so priceless.

This year, as i was hugging my grandparents on my way to the airport in karachi, I couldnt help but wonder if we would ever meet again. As much as I missed Toronto, I wanted to hold on to them for a moment longer. I can still feel my naana's hands going over my head. The words of my naani's duas. Word by word. The tearful, warm embrace from my daadi. I can still picture my daadi standing at the door to the driveway, waving goodbye in tears.

Today, these memories are engraved in my soul as fine as death in my fate. I can close my eyes and re-live those moments to the minutest detail. The colour of my naani's sari. The softness of her hands. The shape of my naana's beard. The way amma(my daadi) rolled her eyes away to hide her tears.

The memories I have of Karachi with my grandparents, will never die. I wondered why I could hate a city so. I've realized it's out of my love that I hate it. I hate the fear and agony my loved ones live in, day after day. Sometimes I long to be wonderwoman. Just so I could flap my wings and fly out to be with my grandparents.

I hate death. I can't fathom it. I'm not afraid of dying but I don't like it when people die. I don't like living in the fear of knowing that someone close to me will soon no longer be. I remember a time when I used to pray that I die before those that are really close to me. Ever since I've learnt it's ungratefulness towards Allah swt, I've stopped praying that way. But I do pray that InshaAllah I have Barakah in the time I spend with everyone. ameen.

Have I ever mentioned how tough it is to live oceans away from your parents? It's at moments like these, you wish to be surrounded by your family. With those who truly understand what you're going through. It's at these moments that I wish i lived in karachi. and then...

And then, i think of a life without bijli aur paani (electricity and water) and roads with bumps (synonymous with Wonderland's DropZones) and mosques without women and shopping malls with molesters and gropers and then with a sigh, i silence my thoughts and say Alhamdolillah!

I miss you and I love you. :x

p.s. i will NOT publish anonymous messages on this post. So kindly, don't bother.