I’ve been orphaned twice
Once when I lost my father at 11
And now my uncle at 32
The pain is unbearable as if though a truck ran over my chest
I haven’t stopped crying since I heard the news two days ago. We’re waiting for his body to come back from the states.
He’s be my father figure since I lost my dad
He’s always been supportive and there for me
I’ll miss his visits
I’ll miss his talks and the same stories that he keeps telling us and we always laugh as it was our first time to hear it.
“My daughter always fights me when I say you’re the wisest and mature, but she told me when you were speeding up madly on those buggies!” I haven’t rode one since I was 17. But I laugh every time. As if I’m hiding a secret and he finds a joy in pointing my “devilish” side out. Another story was when he took me to hajj in winter 2008. He always told people that I was zooming left and right and he was trying to chase me. That wasn’t an accurate story but I love seeing him tell it.
I’ll miss that he never speaks ill of anyone. And that he treats the valet guy the same way he would treat the prime minister. All the people were his brothers and sisters. And will always do his best to serve, support and help people. He never got much of it except immense respect from people.
He was a popular lovable guy. You’d never catch him being grumpy or upset with anyone. Except for one recent incident with his brother in law who overstayed his welcome.
I can’t believe he’s gone.
I’ll miss his football gifts.
At the beginning of every season or tournament he would get us all the new merch and banners and flags for our favorite teams. I didn’t keep any of those as I wasn’t into football much and it he shorts he always got didn’t fit me. Not that he didn’t know my size but I’m a plus size girl and those merch don’t run my size. But he couldn’t stop himself from getting it for me anyways.
He had the kindest heart and soul. He would get out of his way to help anyone from any gender , race, age, nationality, social status you name it. To him, everyone was the same and he’d be there for them.
He was everyone’s father figure.
I can’t process that he spent a couple of nights in a cold morgue
I can’t process that he’ll come home in a casket. With the luggage instead of his business class seat.
It gives me shivers every time I think of it that way. It makes his absence so real.
I can’t feel my legs every time I think about me switching communication with him from cellphones to tarot cards.
I break down every time I think about asking him to be my spirit guide. Cause I know I can’t physically hug him anymore.
I’ve been trying to guess at what stage of grief am I at. I want this to pass so fast. But of course I need to process it too.
But the pain is immense
I miss him
I will always miss him
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