The clouds outside my window tonight blanket a rather radiating, round full moon. They look congested, swelling like a muffled lump at the roof of a throat, on the verge of bursting into loud cries and hot tears.
Today, it has been exactly 12 years since you left, Dad. No one compares to you. No one can fill the void of your departure.
I can still hear your hearty laughter from the last night we spent together. It was a Ramadhan evening, your guests had just left and we sat together with my mom and brother to watch our favourite Ramadhan comedy show. Do you still remember how you were feeding my mother grapes? Your eyes glistening with love for each other as they met are vivid images. I still recall you slicing an apple and insisting my brother and I eat it, scolding us for never eating enough fruits.
Thunders raging outside resemble the long, exhausting, dire battles you fought with disease.
The moment I realized that you had succumbed to the unmerciful blow of death, I took an oath that until we meet again, I will lead a life dedicated to your memory. I want to see pride on your face when you see me, I want us to walk happily, hand-in-hand like we always did when I was a child, through the glorious doors of heaven. I pray to God to grant me my wish, to let me live by your side in eternal paradise.
Thank you for raising me as a queen and handing me the throne and the crown. I promise, like I do time and time again, I will never let you down.
Your strength has always been my inspiration. The grace, chivalry and purity with which you led your life are my compass and north star. Your iron fist will always be my velvet glove. You are embedded in every fibre of my being.
I will name my eldest son after you.
I love you Dad♡