Not Enough Word to Describe Whatever These Feelings is.

 It’s not that I don’t want to visit—

It’s just that standing there makes it real,
Too real, that he is truly gone.
Nine years have passed,
And still, the hardest thing
Is to let my heart acknowledge his absence.

I’ve accepted the qada’ and qadar,
I have bowed to its wisdom.
But in my mind,
It’s easier to think he’s traveling—
Off to some distant land,
A place without a name,
Somewhere far, unreachable.

In my dreams, he was always returning,
Always coming back from the unknown.
And I would run to him,
Tears blurring my vision,
Hugging him as if to stop time—
As if I knew we’d part again too soon.

But now, those dreams have left me.
Is he angry?
Does my silence disappoint him?
Have my duas fallen quiet?
Or has my heart grown still enough
To carry his memory without their nightly whispers?

I still miss him, you know.
So much it feels like a hollow ache,
A wound that heals but never quite fades.
Yet some days, his face eludes me—
His voice feels like an echo in an empty room.
It’s unfair,
That I remember his last fragile days
More than the strength he carried in life.

When my uncle asks if I’ve visited,
The answer is no.
But not because I’ve forgotten—
I could never forget.
I hold him in my prayers,
In my quiet moments,
In the spaces between my breaths.

One day, I’ll go.
I’ll stand there with all my love and all my grief.
And I’ll remember,
Even if dreams fade, even if voices quiet—
He is not gone.
He lives within me.
Always.