Baba

Such a beautiful word, but I wont lie, I only discovered its true value once mine was taken away. I had taken such advantage.

Lately I’ve felt like I’ve been riding on a continual none ending emotional rollercoaster, this sensation residing in me on a daily bases. At first my initial thought was… daily routine is “killing me softly” I need a holiday! Then I came to realise I didn’t need the Bahamas, I needed my Baba!

Its funny how when someone you love or hold dearly is with you, providing that warmth that guiding hand, that loving whisper in every breath of life, you tend to take it all for granted. Its funny how only once they’re gone, does it become difficult to look at the bigger picture and instead it’s the small things that make us weep, and keep us up in the middle of the night. The little things, the things it’s easier for us to come to expect are those which make a bigger impact in our daily lives, and are those which we miss the most when are taken away.

I miss waking up in the morning and finding Baba had already been up since dawn, eaten his breakfast and started the day. I always used to try and wake up before him just one day was all I wanted, but sleep always prevailed!
I miss Baba’s breakfast duties, the way he used to wait for us to wake up then ask what we wanted for breakfast, which was quite meaningless to be honest because all he knew how to make was egg, and no matter what we asked for… we got egg anyway.
I miss Baba’s random practical jokes, every member of the family has suffered one way or another with these ... I shall say no more.
I miss the way he used to misplace things, like the time after washing his hands he put the bar of soap in his pocket then spent an hour looking for it.
I miss Baba’s continual lectures at me and my siblings, being a professor he bought his profession into the house, and so we were lectured. Literally.
I miss arguing with Baba about collecting me from my friends’ houses. That man loved public transport and would rather I lived on a bus than him having to get into the car. lol, but he always did come, even though that meant becoming an additional member at J’s household, apparently hers is the closest to our house.
I miss my chemistry tutorial sessions with Baba, he was the best teacher, he never would get angry if I didn’t understand anything, (something I cannot exercise with my siblings) and I think he holds the record for the most outrageous number of times he has explained the concept of “moles” to me.
I miss Baba’s bedtime stories, (yes I am aware of my age) but when we were younger he used to make up the most ridicules bedtime tales, of which ba6a Safeway (The Safeway duck) and her many shopping trips to, yes you guessed it, “Safeway”, the giraffe and the bicycle, (this concept amused us for a very long period of time), and finally the girl named Farra (mouse) whose name got her into trouble with the local cats, were of our favourites stories. We used to laugh so much that we couldn’t sleep afterwards and stay up most of the night laughing into our pillows.

The list is endless I could go on forever, I really could. Just sitting here brainstorming stories of Baba with my sister has bought back so many laughs.

There’s emptiness in my heart which Baba’s laughter used to fill,
There’s sadness in my smile which his words used to revive,
But there’s hollowness in my soul and sorrow in my step,
For a bigger purpose there’s fear in my eyes,
Each tear will tell you a story of a land, of a people forgotten,
For them all,
I feel the greater pain.

These feelings I cannot control, but what I can do is pray for the safety of every Baba and Mama, sister and brother, aunt, uncle and child in Iraq, God is my witness I never forget them in my prayers, I believe its our duty, the least we can do.