He took the night shifts whilst my father (Ayah) cared for me in the day up until I entered primary school. The one who took me for rides in the weekends cause he had nothing better to do besides entertaining two of his nieces (my sister and I), my second stage security after Ayah, who scolded me, who pampered me, who fed me, who supported me - like a father. He was except he's not biological, he's an uncle but the close relationship that we had made him deserved the title Papa. It saddened me deeply to see his body, was so alive, so healthy now frozen, tiny and lifeless.
Innalillahiwainnailaihirojiun, he went to Rahmatullah yesterday after a month weakened by stroke. Mama (my aunt) said he had some difficulty breathing that evening and they instantly called the ambulance. Once he reached the hospital, the medical team said he was already pulseless but they continued with CPR and other necessary treatments to save his life. When I got there, the doctor was explaining the tiny hope we had after 1 and half hour of resus, went in again to continue their last effort.
Half an hour later, it was decided that he's gone. The whole family was in grieve.
Before they covered him up, they asked if anyone wanted to give their last respect. Uncles and aunts took turn reciting Al-Fatihah and gave their last kiss for him. I was offered the chance, but I couldn't. I couldn't. The imam said avoid tears on his body. I was crying too hard to be able hold them back, I don't want my tears to pain him.
I feel lucky to have given the chance to talk to him before he was stroke stricken, to have kissed his hands during first day of Eid, and managed to be there on the day he left dunya.
You had given me so much but I couldn't give much in return. I hope my Al-fatihah is enough as my last gift to you, Pa.
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