It was the eve of `Eid and the flat was still messy and dusty. I had just half an hour before Marz’s bed time and I knew that I would nod off with her, so I was desperate to make sure that the apartment was halfway decent before that. Inwardly reproaching myself for having left things at the last minute, I wiped, swept and mopped feverishly.
My two-year-old followed me around, rag and sponge in hand trying to be of some help. Our last stop was the kitchen. She liked it there and now that she was over the “Ummi, what is this?” phase, she often launched into the “Who bought this, Ummi?” mode. This time, though, the chat turned out to be a little different.
“Ummi, who bought this bin?” Maryam asked pointing to the white trash can next to the sink.
I turned briefly and told her, “Your Baba did… He bought it at Walmart in Wisconsin.” I smiled briefly, remembering that Maryam was born there. But there really was no time for walking down memory lane… I continued scouring the sink like there was no tomorrow.
“Ummi, who bought those bottles?” she piped up again, pointing at her milk bottles.
“I did… I bought them for you at Kiddy Palace, remember?” I said, thinking that I really was not in the mood for this conversation.
“Ummi, who bought that oven?” she said pointing to the large oven in the corner.
“Oh, I don’t know Maryam. That belongs to the flat owner. We are just renting here, you know.” I really had too much to do.
“Ummi, who bought that small oven?” she asked unrelentingly, pointing to the small grill oven my mother had bought.
“Jiddah bought it for us because that big oven does not work…”
“Ummi…” I bit my tongue and stopped myself from telling her to hush. “Ummi, who bought that microwave oven?”
I stopped wiping and any annoyance I felt at her incessant questions faded away right then and there. My father had bought us the microwave oven when we set up house here in Singapore. It was going to be my second `Eid without him … he had died a couple of weeks short of the previous `Eid.
“Jidd bought it, Marz.” Strangely enough, the little live wire fell silent too.
When she did speak, she said earnestly, “I love Jidd, Ummi.”
“I love him too.”
“I want to hug Jidd.”
“Well, make du`aa, OK? inshaa Allah we can all see and hug Jidd in Jannah.”
“Where is Jannah?”
I dropped the rag and picked her up… the house could wait.
i’m a sist in faith from mauritius.
while reading ur mail,i started weeping thinking about my father…
he has left this world abruptly,sudden death,almost 10 months.he died a week before ramadwaan.
the pain is still here…
i want to share a little incident with u which made my mum and i broke down and weep.
some months ago,i went at my mum’s home.
when entering my room,i saw i saw my father’s helmet on a sofa(my mum got it cleaned to be kept as a souvenir).
When isaw it,it reminded me of my father,his smile,coming home with his helmet holding hi helmet.
but i retained my tears as my 2 yrs old son was with me as he weeps too when he sees me doing so.
guess what,what was his reaction whe he saw his grandfather’s helmet?
he started yelling joyfully all excited.
“nana,nana!mummy nana has returned home!”
he ran in the corridor…”Nana,nana!”
he went into my father’s room thinking he would find him there….
he returned back in my room and the look on his little face made me breakdown and i could no longer held back my tears….
wa `alaykum as salaam Sister!
I am sorry for this late reply – my keyboard was damaged! Jazakillah khayran for sharing. May Allah grant your father forgiveness and may He widen his grave, fill it with nur and give him glad tidings of Jannah ameen.