A Letter for Ayah

Dear Ayah,

It's me. I know, I know, I haven't been visiting you as often as I should, but believe me, you are always in my thoughts and prayers. Whenever I come home from work and pass by your place, I wish i could stop by for a while, but I'm always already late and the traffic makes it difficult.

And so I decided to write you a letter. Actually this letter has gone through various revisions in my head, but I thought today would be a good time to actually write it, seeing as it's your birthday.

It has been exactly 10 years and 40 days since you left. For the first 99 days I was in denial. I made up an excuse not to go home immediately after I heard the news, something about not being able to get a flight, but the truth is I just did not want to face the fact of you not being around. Of course I cried when I heard the news, but it was easier to just stay on in England, pretending things were just the same back home. It was only later, much later when I came home for the Christmas holidays that I couldn't deny it any longer. Even then I held those tears back, and it was only on the night of my flight back to London that I eventually broke down. I must have been a funny sight, pining for you after everyone else had gotten over your absence.

There were times during those 10 years when I wished for you to be here, to share my joys and sorrows. But I know I should accept your absence as part of God's great plan. I tell myself, all these years, that you wouldn't have left us behind if we couldn't cope without you. It's just that, you know, there are those special occasions I just wish we could've shared - my graduation, my first day at work, my wedding, and the birth of your three (so far) grandchildren.

Have I ever really told you about the kids? They're real gems, Ayah. Nuaim, apparently takes after you a lot. He's very fair, for one. He shares your penchant for dressing smart. You'll hardly see him in a round-necked T-shirt, that boy. And he's very intelligent, but can get very impatient too if things don't go his way. He's a lot more talkative than you though.

Nu'man - well, he is exactly the opposite. He's the dark and handsome one, always in a hurry but always smiling as well. And he couldn't really care less what clothes he has on. He's still picking up words and is not yet as fluent as Nuaim was at his age, but he more than makes up for it with his athletism. You would have loved them both equally though.

And Aiesyah? Well, it's still too early to tell. So far she seems to be midpoint between the two brothers as far as physical appearances count, but I think she may have a bit of a temper as well.

Have I ever told you, Ayah, that you are my idol? Not just a hero in the father-daughter sense, but really someone I aspire to. I'd like to think I inherit all my good qualities from you, and that I've lived up to your expectations. There were times when I must have disappointed you, although you've never actually said so yourself. I know you really wished that I had reapplied to Imperial College after I failed to make the grade to Cambridge, but my stubborn pride stopped me. They'd rejected me once, and I didn't want to go begging to be let in. Besides, if I hadn't been to King's, who knows if I'd still be where I am now? And I think so far, Alhamdulillah, I'm doing okay. I thought maybe you'd like to know that.

I've got a long way to go yet, Ayah. Yours is a tough act to follow. I might even quit and change directions halfway through, who knows. But I hope that in whatever I do, you would be proud of me.

Rest in peace, Ayah. And one day, I'll take the kids to go visit you.

Wassalam,

Your loving daughter, Dian