#4

It's so hard. Here comes a new year, a new becoming, and I'm sitting on the roof with one thought spinning: the world seems larger than my knowing. I feel lost and dizzy.. Yet I seem to be doing just fine. I always seem to be just fine. 

#3

I know how to calm myself, I know how to distract myself, and best yet I know how to calm myself when I run empty of ways to distract myself. I read somewhere of a man who could not bring himself to weep for an ache he'd beat his heart unconscious so as to not feel anything. The pain in remembering what it was like is perhaps too overwhelming, too powerful to endure. I can hear his voice, his quiet patient voice when he spoke of matters close to his heart, I can hear his voice, the tone of his when he got impatient, frustrated then apologetic for getting that way. I miss him. No child's finite comprehension can establish a loss of a parent, I'd choose to remain in limbo than to open the door for pain to rush in, and I know this is not a way of life, or a way of overcoming anything.

I want to feel okay, even though I am quite fine, I can speak in full sentences now, I float in and out of conversations, I lose the passion to argue in discussions, from time to time, I'd rather be left alone, fighting to find an interest in the pages of a book, any book, these moments where despair is hovering over me, waiting patiently for me to look up then all around me, to admit to it, that its my one and only companion.

People always say 'its going to get better' and it will inshAllah, I know this is a trial to test my patience and endurance, one of the lessons my religion taught me is the endurance of suffering with faith that offers hope, the acceptance of Allah's will with the absolute conviction that Allah does not ask of me more than I can endure. To remain faithful throughout the trials of life is the purpose behind the suffering, this agony, and all the agonies that Allah allows to befall, is to cleanse the mind, silence the ego, open the heart to reveal the soul to Allah, for His light to pierce through, for His light to comfort and bring serenity.

May Allah strengthen my faith, grant me the patience to sustain me, bless and protect my father in his eternal rest, and forgive both of our sins. Amen

Last night, I entered his bedroom, stayed longer than the usual, memories discreetly pushed open the shut-door, brushed me on their way in, leaving me to shiver, a memory in exact, of him lying in his bed, contemplating, with his fingers interlocked, his eyes searching the space before him, this memory was so vivid, I could recall the feel of his skin, his palms, the roughness of his hair, the way his lips formed a sharp line whenever he was immersed in his internal dialogue, the air around me was so heavy, it stung me every time I tried to inhale, I stood up and left immediately, running to find another distraction to save me.

I want to smile and laugh again, full-heartedly.. But, I think I'm rushing myself. I know I'm rushing myself.

#2

Its the nature of all things to change; things to perish and for others to take its place, things to evolve in succession to another stage, uncertainty/constant change are the only permanents in this life. Today I feel more in-tune within, I definitely have an inner peace today, one that I've missed to gather and stay in, the nights before. I want to think of it, like I have fallen into a hole, a dark seemingly limitless hole, and today I have found something worth holding on to, something shining, something good: and that is faith.

I refuse to freeze, in a stillness, I also am not going to shield myself of the pain that blows in unexpected to cut a story short; I'm accepting each moment as it is, no matter what shape it takes, this is the only way, I had found -in my life- to guarantee peace.

Baba will always be around, when the house empties itself of people, the room he was staying in, his belongings, his journals that I am longing to read and get my fingers on, the videos I have of him with the many laughters, and the serious discussions. I miss him beyond the telling, beyond the ability of words to carry the immensity of the void he left behind.. I know all corners of this house, will trigger a grief response, in the upcoming long days, inshAllah, I'll be able to embrace then move passed whatever arises in each moment, and may Allah bless my father and accept him in the hereafter. There's nothing more for me to do, but pray for his soul and hope to be reunited -in a better place- soon.

Life won't be the same, but its in the nature of all things to chase after change, or be chased just the same. 

#1

(29/12)

I woke up at 4am today and I couldn't sleep since, my mind is racing with thoughts, going in circles, refusing to penetrate into the stillness of pain that has taken shape. I keep thinking of lost opportunities that we could have shared, I know how selfish that sounds, but perhaps grief is just that.. selfish. I believe that Allah finally rained mercy upon my father, not only with the ending of the prolonged suffering, I believe that he sentenced him to suffer in his final years for redemption, and I truly feel that he had been washed pure of past sins and errors. I miss him. I know that the space he once held will not be filled with anyone else. I know that his loss is perhaps the greatest loss I have felt in my life and will feel during my lifetime. I wonder about the empty days, the long hours, in this now hollow home, where walls breathe his departing spirit, where every corner is panting with memories of him. I am trying to stay strong, knowing that this is the ultimate testament of faith and absolute surrender to the natural waves of a destined fate, my patience is being called upon and put to the hard test.. All of that I know, all of that I understand and I can rationalize but still... It doesn't take away from the immense ache I feel in my heart, knowing that now I will not get to feel his being in this life, I will not get to hold his hand while we talk, I will not get to sit in silence together and think, I will not hear his laugh, his infinite scorn over the state of politics and economy of this country, his infinite hope and optimism, call it even patriotism for this country, his English sarcasm and his ever-amusing dry humor, I will not get to kiss his forehead, a kiss goodnight, I will not get to see him here where I am, and my heart silently cries when I think of the days, months, years to come, that I am forced to live without him, the major steps in life I'm forced to take without him, and all the happiness and colorful emotions I will be experiencing without him. My shock is wearing off, slowly, knowing that sadness is not an emotion but a mood. I do not know how long this sadness will last.

I believe in the kindness of Allah, I also believe in the fragility of this reality that carries life.. No wonder they say, you lose a part of you when you lose a beloved, because you once shared a place together: of thoughts, feelings, conversations, experiences.. etc. that when the beloved is gone that place that was once, so familiar is left abandoned and you are left feeling just the same. I catch myself thinking 'I can't believe it' even though I do, I just can't conceive life, now that it is somewhat disfigured. Baba's presence is everywhere, even in the background of my life, I find him there. This is what grief feels like, tip toeing around the circles of memories with his scent, knowing that once entered, life wouldn't be the same again. It would be different, so different that the notion of adjustment is not only impossible, it doesn't even make sense to me right now.

To state the painfully obvious, mortality is indeed necessary for life to have meaning. Sadly only when confronted with death, does one seek out said meaning. Sadly the survivor is one to pursue such goal.. And as my heart is torn by separation, for now I am numb, so numb. I do not dare to move at all.