I remember

I remember sweet memories

Kindergarten.
Eating meals with me,
Waiting for me to finish
Me, in no hurry.
You, ever so patient
You asked a five year old permission
To leave early for your next appointment

Third grade
You waited for me at the bottom of the hill
Classic pose
My excitement was uncontained
As I ran to you

Fifth grade
Puzzles and prizes
Random homework checks

Sixth grade
Camping out in the living room
Screenings of the world cup
Passionate cheers in the middle of the night

Eighth grade
Night school
You, in your puffy jacket
Sporting a cane
I loved that you came for me
Walking
And back home
Arms linked,
We went walking

Fruits, I remember fruits
Enough to feed the entire neighborhood
Consumed voraciously
Never scolding never chiding
Finding 1001 things to do with fruit
But most of all
Just simply feasting
I blame my fruitaholic ness on you

New clothes
Cookies and candies
Filling up closets
In anticipation of Eid

Kelamfarekh & kerkasa
Gobez we nus
Anbessa ye anbessa lej

Two fingers in the air
You always knew
Ultimately it was you and the Almighty

Eighth grade
Hospitals
Restless nights
Empty houses
Screaming
Tears
Graduation sans toi

I remember….
Sweet memories
Dreams
Thoughts
Unspoken words
Unanswered questions

Fast forward 15 years
Today, I felt a breeze
Thought it might be you
Telling me, after all this time
You were still here
Witnessing precious moments
Graduations, wedding, birth of two grandkids
Praying for more blessings our way
We send them back

The umbilical cord is not broken.

Celebrating Daddy

By Semiha Abdulmelik

Losing my father was an exercise in a kind of growing up, an exercise in trying to comprehend as well as giving up on understanding, an attempt at resurrecting and reconstructing memories, buffing some and trying to darken others. It has been over time, trying to understand absence over time, and to borrow the words of another, ‘For a long time I stressed the absence, the hole. Now I find it is the shape which has become more important.’

Loss is an exercise in remembering and the funny amnesias. I can remember that it was a Sunday, and the minute details of the day, including the quick shower before heading out to what I thought was going to be a hospital visit, and I remember running to the living room to watch between the hexagonal grill the ambulance enter the driveway. But I can never remember whether it was the 20th or the 21st of February. Every year, mid-February, I turn back my calendar to February 2000, to check which was a Sunday. This major pilgrimage was always difficult, always different. The date, regardless that it was confusedly straddled between the 20th and 21st became a shrine in my mind that I visited and revisited.

Perhaps this year, I will try merely to celebrate a father’s, my daddy’s, love. His love was comforting-a comfort borne from being known, flaws and all, and loved deeply nonetheless. It was a love that saw all my colours and hues-bold, muted, hideous, beautiful. It was not loud or demanding, just certain, constant, and always present. I did not ever turn behind or around to look for it, certain as I was that it was always with me. It was that trusted gabi, neither too heavy and suffocating, or too light and unreliable. It was the feeling of sitting indoors, spoonfuls of cardamom vanilla honey laced oatmeal on a cold keremt day, whose sensation lingers into the summer days. His love I think come before and beyond my story-indeed when pressed, he would tell me, ‘I loved you the moment I knew you were conceived’.

If matter is neither created nor destroyed, perhaps so it is with my father’s love.

Daddy

How do I honor a man amidst the men?
How do I do justice to the extraordinarily beautiful person you were?
How do I pay tribute to he who loved us as soon as we came into existence – for no other reason than that we were?

13 years have passed but you remain forever alive in every moment
In our very beings
In memories replayed
In thoughts recalled
In prayers recited
In teachings reenacted
In values respected
In principles upheld

You were more than any girl could ask for, and the best she got.

‘I miss you, like the desert misses the rain.’
But I rest assured that InshALLAH you are resting in paradise.

Always,
The Lion’s Daughter

Daddy

Feb 20, 2000. 12 yrs on, and your legacy still lives on dearest daddy. You were the best example of what a father should be, and we will leave this earth better, stronger, more noble because of it. You’re missed more than words can express, but you are forever alive in our hearts, thoughts & prayers. May you rest in peace, and your soul at ease. May you rest in paradise ‘surrounded by the fragrance and light of jennah’.

It is said that ‘there are different wells within your heart, some fill with each good rain, others are far too deep for that’ (Hafiz) And though this empty well that you’ve left behind can never be filled, we rejoice that you were here to leave it.

The following peace was written at least 15 yrs ago but remains timeless. It was a girls portrait painting of her beloved daddy.

DADDY
by Semiha Abdulmelik

Looking into those sad
haunting eyes,
the dark steel pose,
the proud tilt of the chin,
like a
panther
fearless!

As we talk, I see a metamorphosis,
Those sad eyes have become
Brown twinkles in an expanse of white,
the face softens, the closed lips open
to a charming boyish smile showing

off

straight
white
teeth.

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