Dear Abu jaan!

I’m trying not to sigh and I’m trying not to cry.

It was 2018 when it happened, now it’s 2019 and I’m in Lahore again, a year later, and yet my heart aches as though it’s all still happening right now. 

I feel the strength leaving me when I remember that day. On that fractured day I had to sit and press down on my temple with my wrist and take quick measured breaths, try to focus, try to continue. It was the toughest flight I ever took, and it’s really hard to still feel this pain. 

It’s one year since you passed away and I’m running out of words to express myself to you. I’m more than sad about the distance and the space. 

I will always remember the tight tendril embrace of your hand, your kiss on my forehead and your words; “A gai Meir Beti” 

Thank you for the memories you left with me, the memories I hold close to me, thank you for the times I was able to spend with you. I still laugh with tears at our last video, while playing darts and drinking tea with Fortnum & Mason cookies. 

The gratitude for who you were and what you shared with me, with us all,  that gratitude only increases with every passing day. I feel you in my heart. 

I know that you can see and feel that we are all together on your Memorial Day. We all miss you and carry you with us in our blood, in our hearts, in our creative spirits 

If heaven had visiting hours, I promise I would come in the morning before I start my day, come and drink my first cup of tea with you. I would come to tell you – Dad you have been missed, you will always and forever be missed. I miss your silver hair. I wish to own them one day as gracefully as you did.

Rest in infinite transcendent love, my most adored, most cherished Baba Jaan.