It’s been a year, today, since our beloved Papa left us for a better place and it hasn’t gotten easier. I don’t know if it ever will.
A year ago, when I saw him at the funeral home after his death, one of the first thoughts that entered my mind and remains to this day was how tall he was. All my life, because of his age, he was always hunched over a little and I didn’t even realize how tall he truly was.
I could go on and on about my Papa and I love anytime anyone brings up Papa in conversation.
He loved reading. The Qu’ran especially. And did so daily without fail.
Even when dementia overtook him, subhanAllah, even just hearing the words of the Qu’ran calmed him and brought peace to his mind.
He loved Kit Kats.
He loved Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Don’t ever disturb him from 7 PM to 8 PM. Without a doubt, it’s how my family and I started watching and still watch to this day. Arham, too, is already a fan.
He loved spending time with us just as much as we loved spending time with him. His presence brought a joy that I can’t describe. I loved loved loved spending any time I could with him and cherished the moments. My NJ cousins knew that if my Papa was over, all my other plans would be cancelled.
He loved us all unconditionally. I have never met anyone more genuine than my Papa, and I don’t say that in a biased granddaughter way. I created the #TeamPapa hashtag several years ago, and it’s stuck within our family. My cousin made us matching shirts with it as well.
When I was pregnant with Arham, because of his dementia we didn’t tell Papa but, subhanAllah, he would ask on the phone about the baby. When I went to visit him while pregnant, he asked where was the baby, why is the baby crying in the other room. Even with his dementia overtaking him, he still had an intuition somehow.
Although Arham got to meet him, I wish he got to grow up around Papa and see for himself who Papa was. Or why I am so fond of him. Why he brought me such joy and why his memories still bring me joy, why the memories are so strong and always positive toned.
He brought so much joy in my life, I can’t even describe it. It’s just not possible to put into words who he is for me and how much I miss his presence.
I pray Allah SWT grants him the highest place in jannat. I pray I can carry his legacy forward by being the best version of myself and make him proud. I pray I raise Arham to be the kind of person that Papa was.
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I didn’t watch the inauguration. If you know what a news and political junkies we are in this house, this was big.
News are big in our house. Domestic and international. Politics are discussed profusely.
Throughout the day, there are texts, news alerts and tweets sent among our household group text. We watch the news together nightly.
The first inauguration I can remember watching with full memory is of George Bush. I have watched every one since. I know little tidbits like the oath is always at noon and other things that do nothing for my personal gain.
But I couldn’t watch today.
This whole election cycle, I feel we sat around passively thinking it was not possible to elect such a candidate and *news flash alert* he now holds the office. I don’t know if it says more about the type of people who support him or more about the type of people who passively allowed this to happen.
A man who lashes out on twitter over minute things. Doesn’t he, or should he, have better things to do? You know… like trying to figure out what this presidency entails exactly??
A man who probably has a contradictory statement for each one he has made. Probably on his own Twitter account nonetheless.
A man who is equal about discrimination against all. A racist, sexist, ableist, a bigot.
A man who lacks the basic understanding of what this position requires suddenly holds the power and control over so many things. Let’s not even start with the nuclear codes.
His own campaign staff didn’t/couldn’t trust him with his own twitter handle leading up to the election, need I remind you, but we are suppose to trust him as the POTUS?
Where do we stand, as a nation, now?
How much weaker are we as a nation in the eyes of countries around the globe?
Was it a publicity stunt for him? Perhaps. Are we suppose to wait around holding our breaths what’s to come in the next four years? No. Way.
Popular hashtags trending on twitter include #NotMyPresident and #OptOut. But you know what? Whether we like it or not, the reality is that he is now our president. And we certainly can’t just opt out.
I tried to convince myself post-election that we have to give him the benefit of the doubt. That rooting for his failure is essentially rooting for our own demise. But you know what? No. No we don’t have to. And we certainly shouldn’t.
Enough of the “how bad can it get?” and “what worse could happen?”. All logic and common sense has gone out the window. Anything and everything is suddenly fair game and quite the possibility.
As a matter of fact, it suddenly got just that more important to be proactive and speak up for what is right and what we believe in and make our voices be heard and be heard and hold those in office accountable. Not be silenced or sit passively any longer.
One of my biggest regrets will be that I wasn’t active in the election campaign this go around like I was during the Obama campaigns.
It starts small. It starts local. I urge everyone to become more involved in their own communities.
We can’t change what happened, but we certainly can have a lot to say about what is happening and what happens in the next four years.
His slogan may be “Make America Great Again”, and we certainly need to… but he certainly isn’t the one to lead our nation to do so.
Update: This can also be found here.
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There is absolutely no worse feeling than your baby being unwell and you can’t take away their pain. For the past seven days we have either been at the pediatrician, at the hospital, or both. These past seven days have been exhausting, physically and emotionally.
When Arham woke up ill Friday, and wouldn’t improve as the day went on, plus a doctor’s visit later… I knew I had to take him to the ER. I thought I was going in just so he would feel better with some IV fluids.
Little did I know what that night would have in store for us. Or even the next few days that followed for that matter.
To be quite honest, I was dreading taking him to the hospital remembering how painful it was (physically) for Arham when he was six weeks old and hospitalized and how painful it was (emotionally) for me. It’s traumatic and something I can’t get it out of my mind.
Which brings me to what led me to start writing today:
The staff at Saint Peter’s University Hospital? Godsend. Especially the nurses.
The level of care [and comfort] they provided for not just my precious Arham, but my parents and I during the stay? It’s unforgettable. It’s something I’ll never forget and I can’t begin to express how grateful I am.
From explaining what I didn’t understand multiple times, to giving me time to process the information.
From being available for questions to continuously asking if I (or we) needed anything.
From listening to and addressing my concerns to allowing my parents to stay and be in the room with me when not typically allowed.
From using a flashlight instead of turning the lights on in the middle of the night to prevent disturbing my finally sleeping 15 month old to coming in later to try again to not disturb my child.
From understanding my fears and hesitation to providing any sort of help they could.
From calming my fears to reminding me prayers can change everything.
The list is endless, just as my appreciation towards them is.
It is an innate reaction to complain and not forget when things don’t go wrong, but we need to express appreciation when things go right just the same.
On a side note: I, myself, ended up in the ER one night while Arham was hospitalized — and they were so accommodating. A typical ER visit is hours long. They had me out within three hours so I could go back up to the pediatric ward to be with Arham and each of Arham’s nurses were just as concerned about me as they were of Arham.
Being completely honest, even though I always like to be safe rather than sorry, I wasn’t sure why they were putting my baby through excessive tests that wouldn’t help or weren’t even needed on that Friday.
He just had a terrible stomach virus I thought.
THIS is why I was hesitating bringing my baby I thought.
It may very well have saved his life.
Let me tell you, it’s not comforting when multiple people are rushed into the room, each trying to confirm the diagnosis… and in mere minutes a plan of action is put into place and surgery team is prepped for backup. Neither is when you are told it’s “life threatening”.
It was a scary situation, and what could have been is too scary to even think about, but not for even a second did I doubt the level of care Arham was being given.
The level of response once the problem was spotted was absolutely amazing and that may very well have made the difference. I will, forever, be grateful towards the staff at SPUH not for just this stay — but for what they do always.
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Earlier this month, one morning, Arham woke up quite content. He got up, sat up in his crib and started playing. I checked on him a few times, he glanced at me before continuing to play. I should have been ecstatic, right?
So why did I feel sad instead?
It got me thinking…
Some day he won’t need me to feed him. Or even prepare his bottle.
Some day he won’t need me to change his clothes. Or even his diapers.
Some day he won’t need me to give him a bath.
Some day he won’t need me to fall asleep.
Some day he won’t wake up crying in the middle of the night looking for me.
Some day he won’t want to play peek a boo with me.
Some day he won’t want to cuddle so tightly.
Some day he won’t want me to kiss and hug him so many times daily.
Some day he won’t sit with me so patiently while reading through picture books.
Some day it will be him teaching me new things, not the other way around like it is right now.
Some day there won’t be an excited welcoming committee each time I enter the room.
Some day. Not today.
Today? Today is a different story and I will savor every moment of it.
He is mine to spoil. He is mine to love. He is mine to teach right from wrong.
He is the biggest blessing of my life.
He is fifteen months old today mashAllah… and if the first fifteen months are any indication, time flies by.
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Both my paternal and maternal grandmothers, unfortunately, passed away before I was born. So, what I know of them is only through stories and pictures.
33 years ago today, my maternal grandmother passed away. Two days ago, it was my Papa’s birthday. His first birthday since his demise last March. If you know anything about me, it’s how much I adore my Papa.
Papa, throughout our lives, held a dual role. He was, of course, my grandfather… but I always felt he spoiled us extra as if to do Nani’s part too. As if to make sure we never felt we were missing anything our Nani would have done for us.
I don’t think I fully understood the love Papa had for us until I saw my parents with Arham. The bond I had with Papa– I see that forming between Arham and my parents… especially with Abu. If Abu is present, Arham wants just him.
Losing Papa has left an empty space that I don’t think can be filled, as it rightfully should be for someone so dear as our beloved Papa. That void constantly reminds me of who I want Arham to be as he grows up InshAllah. I miss Papa daily, and often find myself looking at pictures of him or reminiscing of memories. I don’t know if it gets easier ever, it certainly hasn’t yet.
More than anything else, I wish Arham got to see who Papa was.
I feel as we lose the older generations that were the pillars that held our family tree together, slowly but surely, the leaves are falling off the branches. How much longer before the branches fall off and divide us completely?
Age is but a number. The level headed, down to earth honest people we had in Papa’s generation? Sadly, those characteristics didn’t carry forward as much for the next generation. Everyone has their own agenda, family ties mean nothing, good and evil are the same, morals are destroyed and values are negated.
Nothing gold can stay, and as the cycle of life goes, we must all meet our end one day… but I wish more than anything that their morals and values remained in the future generations.
If there was one thing I learned from Papa it was the value of family. He always tried to gather all five of his children, all in various states, and their respective families any chance he got. It was what made him happiest. I love that I am like him in that aspect. For me, family is everything.
Nowadays, not many value the importance of a family. It’s upsetting and unfortunate to say the very least. For me? It’s what makes the world go round. It’s what makes it worth waking up in the morning. It’s what makes one look forward to things.
“And hold firmly to the rope of Allah all together and do not become divided.” [3:103]
Nowadays, sadly, people are happiest tearing others apart. People rejoice in other people’s grief. People enjoy havoc in other people’s lives, and cause it too. People jump in to see as if it’s a spectacle.
Truths aren’t held to be self-evident anymore. The wrong are encouraged and supported, the right are put on trial.
Hypocrites say and do anything just to protect themselves. No matter who is harmed in the process. No matter who is brought down along the way.
We are better than this.
It’s everything that Papa stood against. What is suppose to unite us, should never divide us.
It starts at home, and it starts from day one. Dual role. The man Arham grows up to be depends on what (values and morals) I teach him. I am not just raising my son, but I am potentially raising someone’s husband and someone’s father. It’s a job I take very seriously.
A different kind of dual role, but a dual role, nonetheless, of significant importance.
I know Papa would be proud of me. He always was. But I hope, more than anything that, I raise Arham to be someone that would make Papa proud too.
I pray Allah SWT grants Papa (+ Nani and Dadi) highest level of Jannat. I pray Allah SWT forgives them for any of their shortcomings. I pray Allah SWT rewards them immensely for their good deeds– especially their roles in who we have become today because of them. I pray Allah SWT leads us all to be the kind of person that people can only say positive things about, even years after they leave this world.
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As a nation, we failed.
And we failed our children the most. They are the ones to suffer the most. They will see the aftermath the most and be effected the most.
No, we didn’t fail because we failed to elect Hillary Clinton. In fact, it was never about Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump the people themselves.
It wasn’t ever about them. It was about everything we stand for as individuals and as a collective society and what candidate aligns closely with that sentiment.
We, as a country, elected a racist, a sexist, a bigot, an ableist all in one who openly discriminates against all, … and all those that were at least embarrassed and ashamed and as a result hid their hate for all? Now, its socially acceptable to display freely.
The polls weren’t wrong. What happened was the closet haters didn’t express themselves openly until they could cast their votes in anonymity.
It wasn’t about the lesser of two evils. Rather, it became that evil [and hate] won.
We try and teach our children basic differences between what is right and wrong. We teach them that innately each person is equal and the same and no one deserves to think they are entitled or put anyone else down for any reason.
How do we teach our child(ren) it’s wrong, when we didn’t stand up for what is wrong? How do we teach our child(ren) to do the right thing, when we didn’t do the right thing? How do we teach our child(ren) to stick up for what is right no matter how hard it is or how unpopular it is, when we failed to do that?
How does one teach their child(ren) its wrong to discriminate, disrespect women or put others down when as a nation we said it’s totally acceptable? Let’s be clear: there was a choice and we chose this as a union.
Today, as a nation, we moved backwards. And to reverse this? Not as easy as changing the clock for daylight savings. We took a huge step backwards in the wrong direction. We have a lot of work to do and its going to be rigorous, but more important than ever to stick up for what is right. Now it’s more important than ever to have these honest hard conversations.
All the closet haters that were built in these past eight years since we elected Barack Obama came out in full force yesterday and spoke volumes. For anyone who naively thought we were making progress in terms of discrimination of any sorts? Our eyes were, unfortunately, opened to reality today.
Elections have consequences. Actions have consequences.
How can SO many people be … so far off from reality?
It’s easy to play the what if game. What if more people had voted. What if more people hadn’t wasted their votes. What if the media hadn’t created this monster. What if the voters turnout was greater in the primaries – would the candidate be different? Who knows. What if’s never become what is. And what is? Is an unfortunate reality that we now have to deal with.
It doesn’t just go away in four years. In reality, today, we opened way to create this as a new norm. We said, wrongly, that this is okay. That it’s okay to hate. And that isn’t okay ever.
I always send reminders to those closest to me to vote always — not just in the general presidential election, but all types of elections. It’s not just your right but your civil duty. In the aftermath, it’s each to say or think things in hindsight. But it’s too late by then.
It wasn’t a typical election with two qualified candidates with different views. We had a clear choice last night, but somehow made the wrong decision. I knew the American electorate is ignorant, but perhaps I underestimated just how ignorant they truly are.
I read something last night which was all true — last night’s election was like working with a dysfunctional group for a school project. You do your part, but can only hope that the others don’t screw it up. Unfortunately, more than half of the nation screwed up big time. A project grade didn’t depend on it though, our future did.
I have never been more scared, or more unsure of the uncertain future than I am at this moment. Not for me, but for my young thirteen month old son. He is my life. What kind of tomorrow are we choosing for him today?
We are suppose to be the role models for our children. For the future generations. As parents, we are suppose to be unselfish and make decisions to create good futures for our children. Each thing we do daily, is about our kids. And today, we didn’t just disappoint them – we failed them.
In some ways I am glad my son is to young to realize or even ask questions. It doesn’t stop my worries or lessen what is. But because I can’t imagine what it was like to be one of the many parents, and teachers, across this nation who had to deal with tough questions and have some serious discussions with the young children in their lives.
As I was discussing with Faraz about my sentiments and thinking of what to title this post, he quoted to me the following from Batman:
Alfred: “Why do we fall sir?”
Bruce: “So we can pick ourselves up again.”
As a nation, we fell deep. Picking ourselves up won’t be easy, but it needs to be done.
As I close off my thought for now, something I wanted to share — I am a US citizen, but I am also a Canadian citizen. And the biggest difference? The day we had our naturalization ceremony in Canada many many years back, we were reminded to never forget who we are and where we came from: that Canada is so great because it’s so diverse. Here in the US? It’s about assimilating. It’s about being all the same. We don’t celebrate differences, we try to blend in and not stand out or be seen as different.
And today? It’s now socially acceptable to hate what is different.
Update: This can also be found here. My first time on The Huffington Post.
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Arham beta, I can’t believe you are ONE!
I can’t believe my baby is a one year old, mashAllah.
A year ago today, at 9:44 AM, you came into this world and forever made mine infinitely better alhumdulillah.
To say anything but that this past year [and the pregnancy] has been anything but a roller coaster ride would be a lie… but it has been worth every second of it for you Arham beta. And to be quite honest, this past year flew by. I truly wish I savored every second of it for a moment longer.
You are, mashAllah, the biggest blessing of my life.
You are perfection, and I can’t imagine my life without you. What you bring to my life, I wish I could put into words for you but the following sentence will have to suffice: you are a pure joy and I am so lucky to call you my beta.
It truly is impossible to put into words the unconditional love a mother feels for her child. Your joy is mine, your sorrow is mine. There is nothing like motherhood, and rightfully so. If there was a way to protect you from the undeniable evil of this world, I would.
Because of how complicated and scary the pregnancy was, and how this past year in general has gone: I have not only cherished each moment, but also tried extra hard to celebrate every milestone, every new thing. Watching you explore your surroundings and learn new things each day have truly been the highlight for me. Watching the world, and our life, through your eyes has brought such an unique perspective that I cherish daily.
From the moment I found out I was expecting you Arham beta, I haven’t stopped thinking of you. Every decision I make, I make with the intention to have your best interest in mind always… and I pray you realize and appreciate that in the future. You have been first on my mind, and my priority, since day one of even knowing I was pregnant with you.
Your wellbeing and happiness is mine.
I may not be a perfect mama, but I am trying my best… and will always try my best to give you everything you deserve and what is rightfully yours. I will protect you from harm’s way with every ounce of me, but sometimes we have to leave things in the hands of Allah SWT.
Don’t ever let anyone wrong you. Don’t ever let anyone decide things for you. Don’t ever take no for an answer. You matter. Your opinion matters. I will always be your biggest cheerleader, but know this as well: I will also always be there to guide you when things get tough so you know what is right and wrong and for anything you need Mama for. Always do the right thing, no matter how difficult it is. Never go down the wrong path, especially because it was the easy way out. Especially not because others encouraged you to. And definitely not because others were doing so.
Lately, I have thought often about why life gave you the short stick, and how unfair things have been for you because of other people but inshAllah it will be a blessing in disguise as Allah SWT is the best of planners.
I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. I pray Allah SWT protects you always, that He guides you in the right direction, gives you health and happiness, that you are a source of joy and happiness to everyone around you, and above all else… that He protects you from the evil (eye).
I am sure every mother feels like their baby is very smart, but I truly believe in your capabilities… and I pray you use your intelligence in a positive way always. You light up a room with your smile, and have from day one, and inshAllah you will light up the world with your talents in the future.
Mama loves you Arham beta!! I have loved you since the moment I found out about you. I will love you always.
Your proud Mama,
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What’s in a nose?
It was, in fact, one of the primary focuses for me for the second half of the pregnancy. Monthly ultrasounds, lots of googling, unbelievably hard and painful medical tests and long and unbearable wait for the results… for some up to five weeks. Sleepless nights, stressful days, breakdowns, the “how could this be?” , “what if’s”. The uncertainty and the wait made the anxiety that much tougher.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I’m the type of person that gets so incredibly and uncontrollably anxious and nervous before big events that I make myself sick. Exams, tests, you name it. So you can imagine how nervous each baby appointment made me.
The day and night before my 20 week ultrasound — one that every pregnant woman has — I was my usual wreck. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t rest, couldn’t sleep, physically unwell. But for me, this was typical. So I didn’t think much of it at the time.
Nervously, I made my way to the hospital for the ultrasound and after the usual long wait, I was taken back to the ultrasound room. As the technician was doing the ultrasound, she abruptly got up with a few pictures she had printed from the ultrasound and informed me to wait while she spoke with the head doctor. I figured it was a routine procedure. What better did I know?
A few minutes passed by, then some more. Soon, it had been over forty minutes and by then… to say I was nervous is the biggest understatement.
What seemed like hours later, the head doctor herself walked in and introduced herself and informed me she would do a repeat quick ultrasound herself. I asked her if there was something wrong, and all she said was she would discuss it shortly. By then I was a mess.
Following the ultrasound, and comparing to the pictures from the earlier sonogram… she mentioned that the ultrasound was showing an absence of a nasal bone. When I asked her what it meant, she said it was associated with being a marker for a chromosomal abnormality.
As if I wasn’t already at a complete standstill as it was, the next words I hear from this woman are these most disgusting words I’ve ever heard in my life: “Are you going to keep ‘it’ ‘?
I’ll be honest, for quite a while, I didn’t even comprehend that she meant am I going to continue on with the pregnancy. It has been mere minutes since she has given me the most unexpected/surprising/depressing news ever… and she is asking me this?
WHAT DO YOU MEAN AM I GOING TO KEEP “IT”?
A) Don’t call my baby an “it”.
B) Yes, I am going to keep my baby. He is a baby, MY BABY, not some merchandise I bought at the mall that I’m still deciding on whether I want to keep “it” or not. A baby. My baby. A human being.
C) As a medical professional, don’t ever EVER EVER: ask someone something like whether they are going to continue a pregnancy or choose to terminate it by phrasing it as “ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP ‘IT’ “!
Not someone crying in front of you. Not a pregnant woman present alone at the ultrasound. Not a pregnant woman who you just told the aforementioned news to. Definitely not to a combination of all three of the aforementioned. Not even to the most heartless person alive. Yes, there are people who would choose to terminate, and I am not judging anyone… but the phrasing of that question in any matter was unforgivable.
Shortly thereafter, I walked out of that room signed up for an amniocentesis a few days later, barely knowing what that was (among other tests).
What was supposed to be a one week bed rest, following the amniocentesis, turned into a longer than six weeks bed rest where stairs weren’t even allowed… and I was basically allowed to get out of bed to go to the bathroom only. Throw in the terrible all-day sickness I had all pregnancy long… let me tell you it was not pleasant. The risk of a miscarriage and/or something happening to Arham was incredibly high, and that fear never left my mind even for a moment.
It’s something I shared with only a hand few when it was happening. I don’t know what it was, maybe that if I kept it to myself, this nightmare couldn’t be true? Who knows.
Up until Arham’s birth, at 39 weeks gestation, I was bound for endless ultrasounds, weekly appointments… each time being reminded that there was still not a nasal bone. Each time, a punch to my stomach. Each time making me doubt myself. Each time questioning myself whether I was being selfish in continuing the pregnancy and whether I did the right thing by continuing the pregnancy knowing how difficult life would be for my baby.
On September 28, 2015 at 9:44 AM I was blessed beyond words to finally hold Arham in my arms. I am assuming each new mom feels the ecstatic joy that can’t be put into words, but I think it’s fair to say that I had a little more at stake than most. Alhumdulillah times a million wouldn’t be enough to express my gratitude to Allah for the perfection that Arham truly is.
The first few months of Arham’s life were difficult, and I had the constant thought in my head that maybe something really was wrong… but in December it was verified that his nasal bone was in tact.
Lesson learned? Leave everything in the hands of Allah. He has thrown many incredibly difficult challenges my way in the last few years, but I have overcome each of them learning more of my strength each time.
It’s said that Allah only tests you to your limit… and that He tests those strong enough to face them. Each time, I feel like I am not capable of taking it, or WHY ME??, or that, THIS time it is surely more than what I am capable of handling, He brings ease and relief my way and reminds me that keeping faith will get you through the most difficult of times.
Yes, it’s almost ten months since Arham was born. Yes, it’s been over 14 months since all of this started. So why share now? My mom recently shared a story about some distant relative who had a miscarriage because of some issues and the tests she needed to take. My thought at that time was I wish I had someone to discuss what I was going through. Family will always have your back, but sometimes you need someone who is in the same situation (or has been in the same situation) because they truly are the only ones who get what you are feeling or going through.
Everyone says that the pain felt by your child(ren) is the worst thing you will feel, and I learned that very early on. It is in our innate nature as mothers to protect our child(ren), keep them safe, and keep them from harm’s way. I am constantly reminded, and humbled, by the fact what could have been and alhumdulillah… what is instead.
The unwavering support of my parents and brothers at the most difficult time I have faced thus far is something I’ll be thankful forever. They have not only been my largest cheering squad, but when it matters most– they are my strength in every hardship I face.
The love my parents and brothers have for Arham melts my heart daily. Each day, the huge smile on Arham’s face when Abu (Arham’s Nana-Abu) gets home from work is something I look forward to. The goodnight ritual Arham has with Ami (Arham’s Nani-Ami) that he won’t do with anyone else makes me laugh daily.
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Papa. Not only my maternal grandfather, but one of the most humble and nicest people I have ever encountered. I was just super lucky and beyond blessed to call him my grandfather.
Most people, in fact, referred to him as Papa. Like he was a father figure to all.
His generosity? Kindness? Affection? Wisdom? Knowledge? Knew no boundaries.
I have never met even one person who had even one negative thing to say about my Papa. That cannot be honestly said about many people, but it is indeed true about Papa. In all my life, I can’t even think of a single time that he upset me or annoyed me. He was always Papa – the loving and caring self he always was. He’s been my role model since day one. He will be my role model for the rest of my life.
I loved every day I got to spend him. I loved, loved, loved just sitting with him all day whenever we were lucky enough for him to come stay over at our house. Not just his stories, but just his mere presence brought joy to me.
I loved how he would want to go everywhere with us whenever he came to visit, right down to simple errands. Like he wanted to spend time with us as much as we wanted to spend time with him. I remember the unsaid plan at the grocery stores: I’d do the groceries while my brother followed Papa throughout the store as he picked up nothing but junk food. Who wouldn’t love that?! Many times, we’d cut out things from our “to-do” lists because we were worried he would get too tired.
His love for his children and especially his grandchildren? Can’t even put into words to describe it. Just the extraordinary amount of examples flow through my head. It’s the little things you remember that mean so much. Thinking back to when we were younger, I can’t help but laugh at how much he spoiled us. That’s part of the job description for what a good grandparent is, right? If our parents said no, he would most certainly veto it. Hey, he was the boss, right? We had to listen to him 🙂 I wish Arham got to experience who Papa was.
His love for sweets [especially Kit-Kat and then later Almond Joy as well]. Tried my best to always have chocolate on hand whenever he came to visit.
His love for Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune [and then later Price is Right as well]. Don’t ever call him from 7-8 PM: he was busy watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune at that time.
His LOVE for reading the Qu’ran. He did so daily without fail.
Smiles. Laughter. Happiness. Joy. That’s what the memories are full of. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A life truly lived for others. He was one of a kind, and I am truly blessed beyond words to call him my grandfather.
Papa, I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ll miss you. My heart aches of emptiness when I think that there won’t be a next time for you hug me and kiss my forehead like you always did. Truly, I lost a part of me. Time heals all wounds, and perhaps will ease the pain, but I hope I never forget the kind of person you were and what I want to emulate. He is everything I want Arham to be.
In recent years, as Papa’s health started to decline, I hated that he didn’t feel good inside and my heart ached for his well being. I kept thinking one thing over and over : I wish I could take it away from him. I didn’t want to dwell on what Alzheimers’ did to him and the effect it had in this post; instead I want to focus on all the great memories.
He, up there, called Papa home this morning after a very difficult three weeks for my family and I.
I’ll miss Papa with all my heart, but if there’s one consolation, it’s this: he is at peace.
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There is just something about the generation of our grandparents that hasn’t shown up in our parents or ours. It’s hard to pinpoint, but there is something remarkable about them. Something that stands out.
That or maybe we were just extraordinarily blessed to have wonderful role models in so many of them within our family.
We have lost three great souls over the last year and each one has had a deep impact on me.
Munni Dadda- it was impossible to not be laughing hysterically every time we saw her because of her sense of humor. Her zest for life and the joy she brought to us all is something I think of often. It was impossible to not start smiling the second you saw her — but unfortunately we didn’t get to see her often since she didn’t live nearby :(. Her stories, her humor, her style, her character are all things I think of frequently.
Both my grandmothers passed away before I was born, but I always thought of Munni Dadda as filling their role in a sense. She had that grandmotherly love that had no limits, was fun to talk to and be around, and I loved her sense of humor the most. No formality, no fuss. Just a down to earth woman who I loved seeing on any trip to Canada.
Kalam Nana – there were only the rare weekends where my parents didn’t go meet him, and I enjoyed going most of those weekends too to spend time with Nana. His knowledge, his stories, his genuine interest in all of us, his personality are all some of the things I miss most about him.
He always wanted to know what was going on in our lives– no matter was too small for him to have interest in us, no one was too young to have his respect. If we mentioned something to him, he remembered and always followed up later and I loved that. He cared.
Just a few days ago, on August 31st, we were discussing how it had been six years since Salam Nana passed away. I don’t remember much about him from when I was younger, and unfortunately I never got the opportunity to get to know Nana well enough because he was sick in the years I was growing up. Abu’s told us stories, of course, but it’s not the same.
On September 2nd, we were talking about it had been his funeral that day six years ago when a little while after that, we found out Rana Nanna passed away.
Rana Nanna – she made tafseer class fun and interesting and a good learning experience for me, which is something I’ll always be thankful for her. Growing up, Abu and Ami have always told us everything she did for the family after both my paternal and maternal grandmothers passed away and how helpful she was in that time. Her love for her [extended] family was obvious to all, and so was how much she loved feeding us all her homemade delicious food.
To this day, we have a sweater she sewed for Ayaz as a baby… growing up even my dolls wore this particular sweater.
Slowly, we are losing the generation that are our pillars. Yes, it’s a part of life, but it doesn’t get any easier. Especially when in about thirteen month’s time, we have lost three from this generation. May Allah SWT grant them the highest place in jannat. Three great souls. And all I want to do is freeze time and hold on to their wisdom for as long as I can.
They were the type of people you want to be. The type of people you wish your own children got to meet and learn from. The type of people that instilled values and love and kindness like no other. The type of people the world needs more of.
It makes me wonder what type of legacy we will leave behind for future generations. What we will be remembered for. Will we even have an impact and be worth remembering?