ON LOSS – A FATHER’S PERSPECTIVE
It is almost two weeks since you left us so suddenly Ash. Last night was the final tahlil, at least until the 40th day. I was asked at your funeral how I felt, I said I didn’t have the words to adequately describe my feelings – but how do I feel right now? I actually have to stop for a while and look inwards to answer that. Numb, mainly. I can operate on a day to day basis, but much of the colour of my life is missing. I can laugh, smile, joke with friends and family, and pose for wefies at the tahlil but a lot of this is done because it has to be done; my smiles last night were more forced than usual.
I was, and remain, genuinely touched by what people, often complete strangers, said to me about how Ashraf had impacted their lives in all manner of ways. One person took the time to write me a beautiful and touching letter via e-mail; he didn’t know either Ashraf or Bunga but he recognized the pain of a father who had lost his son and he took the time to reach out to me. Thank you sir. I am deeply touched by his gesture, and the gestures of so many others. I tried to reply to all the messages of condolence that flooded in, both as a form of therapy and to keep myself occupied, particularly in the first few days.
Numb, until a wave of pain, loss and sorrow comes sweeping over me; sometimes quite small, and I can blink back the tears, and other times leaving me silently sobbing into my hands. Then, as quickly as it had come, it subsides and leaves me and a measure of calmness takes its place – somewhat wetter in many cases, but calmer. If it is like that for me, then how can it be for Bunga, amazing and strong lady that she is, and 9 year old Noah?
One of the things that hurts most is not a feeling of ‘why’, but of helplessness: helpless to alleviate the pain of others, helpless in not being able to turn the clock back, of even to be able to offer myself in exchange for his life, as any parent would do, without a thought and in a heartbeat.
My dearest Ashraf, you have gone so suddenly from our lives, and we, as friends and family, struggle to make sense of it. Though we mourn for you, you are now beyond us, gone before as the expression puts it. You are where you are and, apart from praying for you, there is little we can do, other than endure the unendurable…until, over time, it becomes easier and we can, with a wistful smile, look back at our memories of all that you were, whilst giving thanks for all that you brought into our lives over your, all too short, 40 years.
I accept this as God’s will and plan, but whilst you’re up there Ash, please check out the accommodation and book a nice place for the rest of us when we, in our own allotted time, make the same journey.
God bless you Ashraf and thank you for everything!
