The day we lost you uncle, was the day my world lost its spark. The fond memories in your presence keep replaying on my mind on repeat.
At each interaction, you couldn’t go without commenting on my outfit: ‘Is this new darling?’ you would say with dazzling eyes, at my same old coat each time.
You taught me to eat well and to dress well. You taught me the true meaning of pure thrill at a bargain and the ins and outs of DSLR cameras in my teenage years.
Through you I loved lightly grilled asparagus with sizzling butter. You wouldn’t share your secret muesli recipe and if I attempted to make it for you, you wouldn’t have faith in me that it would turn out anything like yours. To this day, I make sure to prepare it the night before for my breakfasts, whilst keeping you in my thoughts.
I would rejoice at bumping into you at the Wednesday market, always looking frantically around if you were not to be found by the bench.
When I turned 18, you gifted me your precious oversized Times World Map book due to my love of maps. It is my most treasured possession to this day.
I attempted to teach you how to use your iPad many times so that I could message you, but you were convinced it just wasn’t for you.
It would be impossible to pinpoint a special day spent with you, for each moment in your company was more special than the last. My most fond memories include cycling through the woods together, our walks through uni parks, reading tafseer together in your living room and every breakfast on a spring day.
I remember the day you accompanied me to the bus station one early morning at fajr time to catch the coach to the airport. You made sure I repeated all my travel duas to stay safe and insisted to pull my suitcase for me.
I would feel so special getting a seat on the sofa spot by your side, where each time you would make sure to point to the first card I wrote to you with the same excitement.
I dont think anyone else has ever made me feel so special in life. So loved and so serene in their presence. You lived a life of exemplary beauty, and your fajr duas that enveloped my life are now lost.
You were more than a grandfather to me, and your grandchildren will always be my siblings. I took your presence for granted uncle, and I miss you more than you will ever know. I can’t send cards to you anymore, but I pray the quran I recite reaches and comforts you.
May we meet in gardens of eternal bliss where time knows no boundaries.
