My father passed away on the 8th of March.
I was at work, just returned from a hiking trip with a group of people I didn’t know, and on that morning I actually discussed with my boss that I will be asking for an extended unpaid leave from work to spend more time with my family. My older brother called me, he was crying and it hit me.
I rushed back home, with the help of a coworker, hugged my mother, went to his room and looked at him for the last time. Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji3un. Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji3un.
The first few days after that were quite hazy, with all the tasks to be done in these sad occasions, following on the paper work, preparing el na3i, salat el ganaza, el dafna, receiving visitors… etc I felt that there was something invisible that is pushing me to perform these duties so I don’t stop and think about the significance of what happened. Then at the first time I mentioned him, and followed it with “allah yer7amoh”, it suddenly hit me. My dad passed away.
In the following weeks, when we visited my family’s cemetery on a Thursday morning, I suddenly felt that this is all ok, and this is where I will come one day, to be buried on the adjoining underground chamber, and surprisingly this thought actually brought me some peace.
Now after almost 3 months, and despite all efforts to give the impression that everything is alright, I miss him terribly. I ask God to forgive me for all the times when I could have been a better daughter and showed my father how thankful I was. He was the one who embedded in me the love of books, music and movies. And despite our different tastes and opinions, we always had some common favorites. He was the one who took me numerous times to the French cultural center to borrow from its selection of books and comics, and he was the one to introduce me when I was very young to sour el azbakeya, and showed me so many interesting novels and movies.
Now, every time someone mentions a movie he liked, or a Spanish tune he used to hum, or even a book he was interested in, I remember him, and an invisible tear falls down.
Allah yer7amak ya pa.
* The title is from ألم خفيف كريشة طائر تنتقل بهدوء من مكان لآخر , I couldn’t stop crying when I read the final chapters talking about the day his father passed away. And when I read this phrase, I decided that when I’m ready, I will talk about him.