Bittersweet Eid-ul Fitr
Celebrating Eid-ul Fitr without my grandfather was . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . empty.
Everyone was at lost, but did not want to show nor dwell on it, for the sake of my grandmother, and ourselves as well.
'Twas rather... sombre. No more Eid Tazkirah from Atuk. No more wake up call from him. And his scent will no longer linger in our house. No more of the silly banters that Atuk and I usually shared.
Photos were taken, but the look of longing and emptiness were evident in our faces.
Howbeit, his words and advice will live in us for as long as we shall live. Atuk must be really proud to see his kids and grandkids, home for this year's Eid.
Be happy in Mecca, Atuk.
Millions of people are there, praying for you.
Every day.
And every second.
On a sweeter note, this man came into my life almost unexpectedly. Like a thunder that surges, I fell for him.
Coincidence has it, he holds the equal qualities in both my father and grandfather. He holds such authority and superiority in his words and actions, yet there is a tinge of respect for his woman. Just like the men in my family.
And so I fell. I fell really hard. It hit me like a wrecking ball.
A girl on her bittersweet journey,
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(
Atom
)
Post a Comment