How is it that without you, home doesn’t seem so much like home. Our family, that once seemed faultless to me, blanketed in love and care, now seems sparse and separate. I had accepted that you wouldn’t be with us forever, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
I’m so used to being welcomed by bright eyes and open arms, wide with welcome. The same strong sturdy arms that held me as a young child, the same steady grip that held me as a young women. I don’t know what it’s like to not hear your hearty voice as you call my name and tell me how glad you are that I’m here. I can’t imagine walking in and not hugging you tight and placing a kiss upon your stubbled head as I always have done while being submerged in your familiar and wonderful scent. This is a comfort that I had taken for granted so many years.
You required nothing from us, just our presence. My mere insignificant presence was enough to make you smile from ear to ear, and now I crave yours. I crave the sound of your shuffling footsteps and ambient humming as you carried on your daily tasks.
When I saw you, lying motionless, I knew at once that you were in peace. Your eyes were smiling at me in a silent chuckle, telling me you were fine, and to not be sad… and I’m doing my best. And as I placed that final kiss upon your brow, your skin becoming cold, I knew that no-one on this Earth had been blessed with a grandfather like mine, and that we were truly amongst the lucky.
They wheeled you away to your final resting place…and with you, they took your stories, your tenacity and the foundation on which this family stands. Oh Allah, allow my grandfather and grandmother to be amongst those in the highest ranks in Jannah, and allow us to meet again one day. Ameen. I will pray for this every day…
Love you always Ankiubu
The Thirty-Something Blog 