Dear Baba,

Everyone celebrated #fathersday today. I don’t remember ever celebrating it before. When you were still here, every day was father’s day for me.

Today I saw people sharing heartfelt messages to their fathers, posting pictures of them and sharing their favorite memories. Just for a moment, Baba….I’ll pretend I can do the same.

When I sit at my study table in the evening I remember how I used to strain my ears, listening for the sound of your car pulling into the driveway, and I would drop everything and race my sisters to the door. You’d open the door with a big, boisterous Salam, and hug and kiss us one by one. Every single day.

I remember how we would bake ginger cookies and make sure to keep a jar on your desk. They would disappear surprisingly fast as you worked.

I remember sitting outside on the porch in the evenings, and listening to the deep, smooth melody of your recitation of the Quran, as you shared your snack with Cado the cat.

Now, when I come home from university and open the door, there is no cheerful Salam. There is no big bear hug. Your desk stands in the corner, with my drawings still taped lovingly above it, but empty. In the evenings, as I sit outside and quietly recite my own lesson from the Quran, I can’t hear your voice anymore.

I wish…I hope, I pray, that this doesn’t have to go on for much longer, Baba. This biccha of yours misses you very, very much.

Love you forever and ever.