ALL I DO IS WAIT. Wait, wait, wait. If it wasn’t God that I was waiting for, I would be terribly frustrated. But happily, it is God, so the waiting ain’t so bad. Indeed it sometimes doesn’t even feel like waiting. I call this active waiting. Some people call it living.
I AM LYING. I mean, I seem to imply that I am a patient man – and that is so not true. My dearest would find it very difficult to verbalise that I am a patient man. And sometimes, when I am patient I wonder whether I am actually procrastinating. And sometimes, when I am busy living, I wonder whether I am being impatient, too bored waiting for God. Ahh… all these thoughts! Where are they coming from… and where are they taking me?
I think too much? I suspect you may be right, sunshine.
DINNER WITH DAD. I had dinner with my father yesterday. It was just us, as my other brother was taking our nephew Imran to watch the Malaysian national soccer team face Liverpool F.C. and continue its beaten run with English football clubs; 4-0 with Chelsea and 3-0 with Arsenal so far. Anyways, while eating, my dad said, “You, know… this Chinese shop has been here for a long time.”
“Well, at least since 2004, since I started working here.” I interjected.
“Oh no, much earlier. Your late Mama loved this place. We used to eat here before... many, many times.” Then my father paused for a millisecond before stressing, “Right here.”, referring to the table we were sitting at outside the premises.
I think my father is kinda waiting too...
A Poem My Father Wishes He Could Write
Did we not live together for so long?
Did we not bear children from our union?
Did you not mark me for marriage
Before you even knew me?
Me, who was never sure of my own heart?
Did you not care for me with great pride?My clothes, my food, my bed and my home?
While I was away, were you not
The master of the house?
Did we not have so many visitors
Coming to grace our home daily?
Did you not try to teach me love?
Did you not sooth my heart
When I am scarred by the world’s fickleness?
Did you not walk each step of my success
And consoled me in my disappointments?
Did you not know each dish that I loved,
Each dish that I disliked, and each dish
That you wish you lived to cook for me?
Did we not travel the world, you and I?
A wife and her grumpy husband?
And does the world now not miss you?
And does the world now not yearn for you,
If only to see you smile for just one last time?
I do not understand why the world doesn’t miss you.
And I certainly do not understand why people say
You were an angel for sticking with me.
You were never my angel.
You were my world.
And I miss you.
Life doesn’t last forever, sunshine. But love, in its many guises goes on and on and on. May we always appreciate our closest and dearest, always.
Have a thoughtful Sunday, pet.
Pax Taufiqa.
2 comments:
You know, Peq,
I wish I can hear stories about my mother, from my father....
I hear hem from aunts and uncles and they are never the same because they are not her husband, the person with whom she shared her life and innermost thoughts,
I feel, somehow, less complete because I do not know my mother, she never left me her good or bad habits...
She is just a photograph to me and I feel terrible for not having a sad memory to accompany her passing...
maybe I will ask my father to talk to me about my mother one of these days so that I may feel longing for her....
Thank you my friend for your beautiful words
If you look for your mother, atuk, I have no doubt you will find her.
I think it is an excellent enterprise to undertake. After all, how can we exist in the present, if we do not know how we got here. And mothers play a not insignificant part in bringing us forth! God bless all Mummies!
And to quore a fine Sufi glorification of God - "Glory to the Lord of the Believers and Unbelievers! Glory be unto Him Whom women cry out to in bringing forth a child into the world!"
HAve a perfectly wonderful monday, my friend. EAch day is suppose to be better than the day before... ya HUU!
TK.
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