#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.