A Son’s Farewell: Reflecting On The Depths Of Love And Loss
Every moment is profoundly marred by Abba Jaan’s absence, casting a shadow that deepens the void in our hearts and souls
Language serves as both a vessel for hope and a channel for sorrow. Writing navigates between acknowledging the limits of reality without being overwhelmed by them and embracing the boundless possibilities of the horizon without losing touch with the present. Thus, as humans, we engage in profound conversations with the world and its inhabitants, fostering openness and connection.
When someone departs, they take with them a part of the narrative of your life: an ongoing conversation, a book left unfinished, your connection to a piece of yourself. In their absence, emptiness becomes an unwelcome resident. You turn to memory, the only counter to loss. In the corridors of memory, any moment can be revisited and examined anew, often revealing overlooked details and events.
The call on May 13th, 2024, where my brother asked, “Where are you?” and added, “Abba is not feeling well,” found me already homeward bound. Strangely, rather than upsetting me, it resonated deeply. In retrospect, that moment didn’t just foreshadow a future memory; it marked a transition where the immediacy of the call would eventually fade into a narrative, a story I would recount with affection and longing. It became a poignant reminder of how swiftly life transforms experiences into cherished tales we share with those we hold dear, turning fleeting moments into enduring memories imbued with love and yearning.
Parents are the world’s precious treasures; having them in any form is no less than enjoying the ecstasies of the world, and losing one of them is no less than losing yourself. With sunken hearts and oceanic eyes, I am trying to develop a rapport with the keyboard. Writing it could be immensely difficult, and filling the pages that could breathe or weep later makes one land in the toughest of survival.
One might ponder the profound poignancy of departing for work with a father’s blessing, only to return to find him, though all okay, for the last hours. A brief spell in the hospital for a few hours. Unaware that those were the last blessings from the most cherished person, you reflect on a father’s enduring love. His heart beat to nurture your growth, his eyes longed to witness your success, his mind envisioned grand dreams for your future, and his hands rose in constant prayer for your well-being. His days brightened at the sight of your progress, his nights were restless so yours could be serene, and his mornings began with blessings while his evenings blurred into nights with joy. Through countless trials and tribulations, he forged a path to provide shelter and support.
Indeed, a father is a protective canopy against the sweltering sun, absorbing the entire world’s toxicity and exhaling only the sweetest fragrances towards his children. While many may experience gaps between father and son, our story is entirely different. He never spoke to us in anger and never questioned our decisions once he recognized that we had grown into our own. His attachment to material possessions was non-existent. Never did he inquire about our earnings or how we spent our money. His focus was solely on our well-being and growth, embodying a selfless love that transcended worldly concerns.
He instilled in me a deep love for books. Whenever I brought home a new book, he would eagerly ask about it. This winter, I returned one evening with a Quran with an English translation. The very next morning, he asked me to open it and share the English translation with him.
I never got the chance to thank him for teaching me Persian, and I regret not fully absorbing the richness of this wonderful language from him. Despite his humble formal education, he was proficient in Persian, Urdu, and Arabic. His melodious voice still echoes in my mind and heart, especially his morning recitations of the Holy Quran. From a distance, he could easily correct my pronunciation, saying, “Son, it should be pronounced like this.”
At night, he would often recite Persian couplets filled with wisdom and wit. He had learned all of this from his father, the late Mohammad Younis Magray, an erudite scholar of his time, who had a great command of the Quran, Persian, English, Arabic, and Urdu. Abba Jaan frequently shared anecdotes about his father during our evenings and late-night conversations.
One of Abba’s friends, Mr. Manzoor, a headmaster, sent me a heartfelt condolence message: “May Allah Almighty grant late Yaqoob Sahieb a high place in heaven after leaving this mortal world. Late Yaqoob Sahib was the owner of virtues, noble and simple character. The deceased was very attached to me and used to talk to me about everything. He had a good command of Persian. I was stunned when he used to translate a Persian poet. He used to talk about his father’s work, so I wished to meet him once. He will circulate with my blood in my veins and remain with me till the end. How can I forget that personality?”
Today, I find myself standing in the towering shadow of a titan who sculpted my world with an abundance of love and profound wisdom. My father transcended not mere humanity; he epitomized strength, kindness, and an unwavering pillar of support. His very presence infused every space with indelible warmth, and his counsel served as the steadfast compass guiding my journey through life’s myriad paths.
Abba, your departure has left a void that no words can fill. Yet, your legacy of compassion and resilience lives on in every life you touched. Your laughter echoes in cherished memories, and your words of encouragement continue to guide my steps. Through the highs and lows of life, you imparted invaluable lessons of courage and perseverance. You exemplified utmost love and resilience in the face of adversity, showing me how to stand tall. Your unwavering belief in my abilities fueled my dreams, and your unconditional love made every triumph more meaningful. Your frequent calls with ‘Dr Sahab’ filled me with confidence, quickening my pulse and fortifying my resolve to forge ahead. I now yearn for who will call me ‘Doctor Sahab’. Now, the echoes come solely from the walls.
Above all, your morning recitations of Aurad- Fatihah with resounding vigour in the mosque assured us of your steadfast presence. Even during Friday prayers, your voice stood up. He corrected me a number of times in the morning while reciting the Quran, though sitting at arm’s length. One moment I still remember is that of a verse of Surah Yaseen, where I used to make a mistake. His command of Quranic morphology was quite interesting. Yet, that melodious voice fell silent forever in the wee hours of the 14th of July 2024 (Tuesday morning), your final breath slipping away in my embrace as I gazed into your profound, oceanic eyes for the last time. Walking, talking, and okaying as I found you, there was no sign of the fear of death at all. With serene joy, solace was found in the promise that the soul has returned to its heavenly abode, fulfilling a divine covenant that brings peace to him amidst our sorrow.
Reflecting on that poignant moment, I question whether I am blessed or burdened to have held your august presence in my hands at your final moment. In truth, it was I who struggled to find solid ground amidst the crashing waves of grief, grappling with profound questions that linger still.
Your daily query, “Are you leaving?” as I left for work, accompanied by blessings, smoothed the path ahead, navigating its twists and turns. Now, as I wake each morning, I yearn to announce, “Abba, I am leaving.” Seeking your company in the fields and gardens, pondering the complexities of life that still perplex me. Walking alone in those gardens now, I envision you strolling amidst heaven’s gardens, and I pray, assured of your serene presence there.
Your tireless work in the fields, under scorching sun or biting cold, mirrors the effort you poured into shaping our lives. For us, you sacrificed health and youth, embodying strength forged from the very soil beneath our feet. Your generosity in opening pathways in your fields and gardens for others offers solace, as if God crafted vast expanses solely for you, reflecting His grandeur in thy gardens.
No mere tribute can ever suffice to honour your boundless love and affection, nor can it soothe the profound ache in my heart. Your absence has etched itself deeply within, leaving wounds of separation that pierce even the most sacred chambers of my heart. This loss transcends the departure of a loved one; it has stripped away a semblance of control over our lives, leaving us adrift in a sea of sorrow. Your sudden departure reverberates not just within our family but resonates with anguish felt across, a testament to the depth of your impact on all who knew you.
In grappling with this profound loss, I am reminded that no words, no matter how eloquent, can encapsulate the enormity of what your presence meant to us. Each day serves as a stark reminder of the void left behind, a testament to the irreplaceable bond we shared. With your departure, dear Abba, the very essence of our conversations has vanished, leaving us struggling to engage with the world around us and articulate its unfolding events. It’s a profound sense of being adrift, uncertain when or if this void will ever be bridged. There’s a fear that lingers, an apprehension of confronting the stark reality that this loss may never find closure. It’s a journey fraught with the uncertainty of grief, navigating the depths of sorrow while searching for solace in memories that now serve as the only tangible connection to your presence.
It takes a lifetime for a son to capture in words the depth of gratitude owed to his father. I yearn to kneel before your feet—feet that bore the weight of countless hardships in raising us. I solemnly led the final prayers (Janaza), bearing the weight of this profound responsibility. I find solace in the enduring certainty that your spirit will forever inhabit the hearts of those blessed to have known you. Your legacy, steeped in boundless love and unwavering integrity, transcends this moment, becoming a timeless beacon that will illuminate our paths through life’s trials and triumphs, now and for all eternity.
Visiting my father’s grave often, I am overwhelmed with a profound sense of loss and longing. The silent gravestone stands as a stark reminder of the void left in my life, a void that no time or distance can fill. Kneeling beside his resting place, I feel the cool earth beneath my fingertips and the weight of unspoken words in my heart. Memories flood back, each one a precious fragment of the man who shaped my world. The air is thick with the scent of flowers around, a tender homage to a life well-lived. I whisper my love and gratitude into the breeze, hoping they reach him in whatever realm he now inhabits. The tears that fall are both a release and a tribute, each drop carrying the essence of my enduring bond with the man who was my hero, my guide, and my beloved father.
On the first Eid without our father, we sons in the wee hours gathered at his grave, our hearts heavy with a sorrow that words cannot capture. The day meant for joy and togetherness, feels incomplete without his guiding presence. As we stand around his resting place, the memories of his warm hugs, hearty laughter, and wise words flood our minds, making the emptiness even more profound. The scent of laid flowers and the soft rustle of the breeze seems to carry whispers of his spirit, but the silence is deafening. We recite our prayers with trembling voices, tears streaming down our faces, each drop a testament to our enduring love and the depth of our loss. The bond between us feels stronger in our shared grief, a reflection of the unity he always fostered in our family. As we place our hands on his gravestone, a silent promise passes between us – to honour his legacy, to uphold the values he instilled in us, and to keep his memory alive in every Eid to come. In this moment of profound sadness, we find solace in each other, knowing that our father’s love and spirit will forever guide us, even from beyond the grave.
Rest peacefully, Abba. Your life was a symphony of love, each note resonating with the depth of your soul. We are forever humbled and blessed to have been moulded by your unwavering guidance and boundless affection. Abba was our hero, our guide, and our true beacon of inspiration, whose life was a symphony of love, guidance, and boundless affection.
It reminds me of Khalid Shareif’s intense couplet:
Bichhda Kuch Is Adaa Se Ke Rut Hi Badal Gayi
Ek Shakhs Saare Shaher Ko Veeran Kar Gayaa
(He parted in such a way that even the season changed,
One person left, and the whole city turned desolate)
The writer teaches English Language and Literature at the Government Degree College (GDC) Dangiwacha.
By Ahsan Ul Haq
