Daddy

Lights always flicker in hospitals. Did you ever notice that?

People also get sick in hospitals.

And people realize things in hospitals.

My first hospital experience was waking up mid surgery when I was 4. I had been chasing a butterfly and I had lost my balance trying to catch it. And I broke my arm.

That day I learnt that mommy and daddy can’t take all the pain away regardless of how much they want to.

When I was 14 I had my appendix removed, I was at school , mom was at work and dad was on his way to his. He came to pick me up, took me to a hospital and decided for the surgery in less than an hour.

At the same time my mother had the same pain in the same area while she was at work and could not make sense of it until she realized it was me who was in pain and not her.

That day I learnt that the moment the umblical cord is cut between mother and child is not at birth but years later when one of them passes away.

I found out that day that saying I love you to mom is not enough and never will be.

On January 28th,2009 I learned that My Daddy is not immortal.

When daddy was taken into hospital suffering from a heart attack at the age of 55, I discovered what a lump in the throat means.

You see,when your roots are suffocated, you automatically are too.

I remember walking into the ICU, Where he was awake and smiling and joking with the nurses. I remember the heart monitor peeping. I remember his hand holding mine,reassuring me that he is alright.

Those hands that held me,soothed me and slapped me playfully sometimes, I took them in mine, canula and all and began subconsciously examining them, memorizing them.

I let him reassure me and joke with me.

I laughed out loud so that my tears won’t escape.

And my first ever moment of regret came,one of many more to come.

I regretted rolling my eyes at him.

I regretted disrespecting him deep inside me when he would not let me have my way.

I regretted going out with my friends on his days off when I knew that it won’t be a day off for him unless I was with him.

I regretted hating his protectiveness.

I regretted upsetting him and breaking his heart when I was unhappy or heartbroken.

I now remember dad’s hands ,every detail of them. I also remember his face and the light in his eyes.

I remember his scent, his movements, his touch on my hands and him taking me into his arms when I am nearly as tall as he is.

One thing I don’t regret.

Is my prayer to God that night in January.

I crept into my bed and cried myself to sleep praying to God one prayer.

“I know it is against your rules but please, just please, keep my daddy for me, I know you don’t do that”
“but please, Make Daddy immortal, would you?”

I know God won’t and I dread the day, for that day will witness my loss of faith.

Not in God, Not in Islam but in the fact that all kinds of pain will fade away with time.

Some pain does stay, the pain of letting go of your roots.

And standing on your own.

Here is the thing, I can’t stand on my own, I am still daddy’s little girl and I can’t live without my daddy.

Shoot me, soothe me or disagree with me.

But I can’t grow up this much,

No one does and no one should