Every other night I break down, missing my father.

Ramadan is especially hard because it’s a time for family. And I used to spend the time before Iftar playing cards with him.

It’s incredibly hard and I miss him every night.

The house has changed a great deal for me and I dont find myself here.

I feel like I moved out from my home and now trying to adjust to a new life with new roommates.

Roommates that are good and all, but they don’t know me.

It affects my relationship with my best friend; my mother, too.

So much has shifted and nothing in my life is as it was since 2009.

It’s pretty gut-wrenching.

Today Sia, our cat, was playing with a thing she dug up from a messy shelf in my room. I wanted to check what it is.


I have two of these. A nurse gave them to me. He taught me how we’re going to tube feed my father directly to his stomach. When he gets out of the hospital.

I’m crying while writing this, because I remember that last day when he realized this is the way for him to eat right now.

I can never forget the look on his face . The angry bitter hopeless expression he wore as he watched the nurse pour his lunch in a tube.

He frowned and pointed at his mouth his mouth.

He couldn’t even speak by then, but he was loud.

He made no noises but I heard his grunt as he looked away violently when the nurse told him he can’t eat right now but Enshallah in the future.

I can’t stop the streams down my cheeks as I write this. I wish i can forget it all.

But at the same time, I look at this small blue thing on my desk, and I say “Alhamdulellah”. God knows best.

It would’ve been torture for us to see him that way. It would’ve been torment for him to live that way.

Alhamdulellah he passed and I pray that he’s showered in mercy and blessings.