Friday, August 17, 2012


I was at my father's grave this morning. Alone. My brothers and sisters were still not back for the Eid and I definitely did not want to be at the burial ground on the first day of the celebration. I've learned from past experiences how crowded the place can be when everyone seems to make visiting their beloved's graves as a family tradition. I guess this year I won't be seeing the familiar faces that I usually met once a year at the burial ground. There was only one small family when I arrived there and they were about to leave. The weather was really fine this morning though I could feel it was going to be much hotter later. The wind was also blowing softly and I felt as if the heavens were smiling down upon me. The burial ground was totally quiet and the rustling of dry leaves from the rubber trees only made the silence more conspicuous than ever. The burial ground caretaker had cleaned up the whole area so there wasn't much for me to do except clear the odd wild grass that grew here and there. I felt much more at peace this time since I did not have to talk to anyone or dwell on trivial matters that could divert my attention unnecessarily. Physically, I was all alone and yet, I knew I wasn't. My father was there. Looking at me and and watching over me. I'm still missing him. Too much sometimes. Al-Fatihah, Abah.