Going Going Gone...

April 19, 2008
By
As I break my fast eager to eat all the food in sight with no decision of getting up whatsoever, I hear the slight sound of the garage door being opened ad jump. I run down to see my dad coming into the house and run into his arms saying my usual way “Slaam” which he stopped me from many times but I still said it. I only said it with him only though it was like our secret way of communication although it wasn’t so secret. Then we came up and ate. That night at Iftaar all of his favorites were cooked. Fish Pakora, Broccoli, and Pumpkin. He usually watched how he ate but that he stuffed himself and was very happy. He also teased me quite a lot that night about my eating until I got fed up and said “ Daddy, should I get the duck tape?” at which we all cracked up. It was a very nice happy family dinner which in our house are usually rare. After that we kind of sloped around not doing any work with my dad walking around the house watching us over. My mom who was very tired was doing all the work and got frustrated and yelled at my little sister out of frustration. My dad who sensed she needed help cleaning came straight to my sister and I, who we both were watching Seventh Heaven at the time. He burst in my door and yelled at us. He told us that we should not be watching t.v and we should be helping my mom since she was very tired and that we shouldn’t be told to do any of this. I, who easily gets frustrated, got up and cleaned in a very mad manner. After that my uncle came over and we made tea and sent it downstairs. After a while we heard loud shouting coming from downstairs. My sister told me my dad and uncle were fighting about my uncle not going to the Masjid to pray. Just a few minutes after that my other uncle left( the one who came for visiting) and it was time to leave. We all got ready and waited outside for my dad to come out but he never did. After a little while of waiting I went out to his window to see him lying across hid bed in a very weird way as if he was in pain. I ran and told my mom who quickly went down to his room to unlock. Inside we found my dad wearing his white clothes still wet from the Wadu on his bed unable to move the whole left side of his body. We all panicked and said to call the ambulance but my dad refused and said “ no. don’t call the ambulance. I’m fine, see look I’ll get up and show you.” but as he tried getting up he groaned in pain. We called the ambulance about three times until they came. I ran out to my uncle who was lying on the couch and told him to run, something happened to daddy I had said. At first he didn’t believe me until I was at the verge off tears when he finally got up and came. As soon as he saw him he started calling up his friends and told them to come quick. I walked out of the room with hafsah and just couldn’t see my dada like that. Just minutes later my aunt and uncle came and following them came the ambulance. I begged to go in the ambulance with my dad but my aunt took us to her house. I waited there with hope that it would all be fine and consoled myself. I said he’s come home in the morning and everything would be better. I sat down with the TV on but barely watched it. Then my uncle called from the hospital telling them to bring us to the hospital and I realized something was wrong we begged them to tell us the whole way what was wrong but they said no Its all fine. As soon as we got to the ER one of my other uncles was standing out there crying. We ran up to him asking if our daddy was fine. He simply shook his head while crying saying sorry they couldn’t do anything. We ran inside saying no you guys are lying this can’t be true. We came to a stop when we saw my dad on a hospital bed with so many machines hooked onto him. That was the first thing in that room I saw. Then I saw my mom crying loudly beside him and everyone else we knew there as well. I started to cry so much and my sister went to the doctor to ask him what had happened. He even came in and tried waking him up for us but daddy never woke up. I remember when he called my dads name “ Farooq” he said and I saw my dads toe move slightly and jumped but no one else noticed. We stayed at the hospital for a while when we were sent home later to amna’s friends house. All night I was up worrying and getting consoled by all the phone calls that came. The next morning my uncle came to pick us up from her house and took us back to the hospital. When we got there they said it was all over and that they were going to take the machines off now. And then just as they took the machines in 15 seconds he was gone. I ran out of the room. I couldn’t bear it. That was the story of my dad’s death. I blame myself in many ways but the worst part of all of it is the fact that the last thing he said to me was when he was mad. I never got the chance to apologize. The doctors said he had brain hemorrhage and 2 strokes. They said his blood pressure increased too much that his vein in the brain popped. Sometimes I wonder if I did what he said without him having to yell at me so maybe he would have been here. I also blame my uncle for making him so mad. My dad always took everything to his heart and his head. He was always in tension about something or someone but he would never complain about it. He was the bestest dad a person could ever have and I will always love him. I miss him terribly lately which is one of the reasons I wrote this all out. Keeping this story inside me has hurt for a while. I hope you understand my dada was a great man and if you met him you would know what I mean. he isn’t alive today to prove that but my words and memories will keep him and his amazing self alive.





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