i can't see the light at the end of this tunnel...

Babaji, if you were still around, I’d have not spoken to you for days for dying on me.

I seek comfort in the strangest places. In scripture and in logic, I look for reassurance in the words of the wise, but fail. Because the comfort I need can only be found in that all curing hug of yours… kindly indicate some how, what the heck am I supposed to do now?

I’m glad you got to go the way you always said you wanted to, with your boot straps on, without being a liability on anyone. And I’m relieved that the combined force of your 5 children was thankfully plenty to get you back home and into the spot where you wanted to be buried, between your parents. But seriously, what the heck am I supposed to do now?

I need to see that proud smile of yours to reassure me. I need that all curing hug again so that I know I held my self up like the man you would have wanted me to be. I grew up decades in a second, Dad, but what the hell is it worth when I can’t even know if it made you proud. I need your help with issues at work, I need to talk to you about wanting to get married again. I want to ask you whether I should lease a new car now that my salary can help us afford it. I need you to explain that song to me, I need you to recite that one sher… I need to come back from work to beat you at scrabble and watch you act all sore when you’re actually so proud at the two seven letter words I made. No, honestly, tell me… what the heck am I supposed to do now?

I know all the stuff that religion preaches. And I know all the mature things to say and believe. But none of that helps because I can’t hear you holler for me to hand you the Tv remote from the table 2 feet away from you. I can’t see you laughing like a school girl at the pushto joke no one else got. I can’t act all irritated by your nasty pronunciation of mukhadi at Sunday brunch. I can’t tell you how to deal with the HR problem at your factory. I can’t talk to you about the latest book you’ve read and I can’t ask you how to word that god damned application for the letter of succession. I have to have you filed as deceased babaji, what the hell am I supposed to do it now?

I won’t ever be able to say asaamaikumbabjee like I’m three years old again. I won’t ever be able to see you cringe at it. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

What exactly is the MO for existing devoid of you? What’s the strategy for this whole debacle? Who do I ask dad, what do I do? I can pretend to be strong all I want but when I’m alone in the shower and N’s not answering the phone and I have nothing to do but miss you and I can’t even do justice to how I feel no matter how many times I try to put it all down in words, and there is no one with tears in her eyes to wipe, or anyone who needs comforting… ramzan has come… eid will follow soon… you won’t be there in the drawing room yelling for us to come get our eidi… what exactly am I supposed to do now?

I can't see the light at the end of this tunnel.. because you're not there holding the torch anymore. What the fuck am i supposed to do now?