A Branch, Fallen! – Letter to My Uncle

My Dear Uncle Nisar,

Little did I know that grief would be this unique when you’ll leave us. A quintessence of endurance & endearment, that was all that you were. For a moment it seems as if am still in a dream, but it is what it is. Was there anyone like you? No, no one was, & never would be. One of a kind, a blessed one, truer than the truth. I can not tell you how much you are missed & will be missed for the times to come.

I shoveled deep, didn’t find anything registered other than kindness, generosity, & love. Calm & composed but a great leader. Leading our family so gracefully since Dada’s demise. Kept us united and closely knit for the last 40 years. No one ever felt vulnerable in your presence. How were you like that? Why were you like that? Grieving for you always leaves me with positive thoughts & feelings, & the hope that you are in a better world. Thoughts about you pop up when I least expect them. Yes, grief is unique & it never stops. It may give way to but it never goes away entirely. Neither do I force to fling it away. That trail of memories made with you just come hither and thither, glistening and misting over slivers of time, sometimes a streak that doesn’t break for quite a while. How grief is not linear, Uncle? How it comes & goes when you least expect it? How did you tackle your grief after losing pieces of your heart? It was humanly unendurable. That day I realized that you were a superhuman when you comforted the grieving me over the loss of your sons. How did you do that, Uncle? My brain is beyond comprehension. If patience & courage had a face, it would be you. My Dear Uncle! You were our rainbow yet life showed you its darkest of colors but you flew successfully through them.

My Dear Uncle, with age & time, I have experienced grief & its varied forms. All of us are grieving over your loss in different ways, at different times, & in different stages. Last night I was talking with Mama on phone, & you know ever since you left us the large portion of our conversations always encapsulate you. She was recalling the time spent with you & how she never heard you loud or incensed at anybody since from when she has known you. How you were looked upon for every decision and advice. How when she was expecting me & was at Nano’s & Papa was stationed away, you used to pay a visit every weekend at Nano’s to know if she needed anything. How on Eids you used to hand her that fresh gaddi (bundle) of small currency to distribute as Eidi (Eid gift money) among kids of the family. How you raised your sons so well & taught them to respect elders & elders the ways to gain the respect of children. You kept the family bonded by exhibiting belongingness. How you used to call us every weekend, no matter where we were & talked with all of us turn wise. We were so young at that time; ‘M’ was only 3 or 4 but you still talked with her. You always asked, kab ao gay? Mausam kesa hay? (When will you come? How’s the weather?) Oh! Dear Uncle! You were so loved by us all. Mama still values you for the respect & love you gave to her & her extended family, & how she never felt that her parents-in-law are not anymore. How did you fill every void? We were reflecting on how much you liked Mama’s cooking & requested a few favorites before your visit, & how you never liked the tea served at our place. We just soak in the countless memories that you have left for us to cherish for the rest of our lives.

Estranged from the worldly pursuits, so rustic, so natural. Never let materialism breathe near you. You enjoyed a minimal lifestyle, but sponsored so so many underprivileged families. You took care of Allah ki Makhlooq (Creator’s creation) the way they are supposed to be taken care of. We three being the only set of girls in the family were loved & cared for by you so well. A gender usually less valued in our society was looked up to as a great blessing by you. You made Papa unique in him being blessed with 3 daughters that no one else in the family is blessed with. Thank you for being a non-stereotypical man. I could never forget the way you told me that how blessed I am to have birthed a daughter.

My Dear Uncle, when we were unable to make it from Quetta for the whole year, you flew to Quetta to meet us. Why you loved us this much? You visited us at every station we were posted to, you loved traveling with us and exploring the neighborhood. Your little gestures of love, have left deep imprints on our minds since then. Your love for Papa would fall short of words. You loved him like a son. Anything you thought he needed, you made sure he gets it. The way you listened to his narratives, the way you valued him, the way you owned him, & showed pride in him, conveyed all. Papa always treated you like a fatherly figure & so did we. Our respect for you came out innately.

Eids were the best with you. No Eid would be the same without you, Uncle. It was you that made it special, it was that feeling that we are awaited by you on Eid that was special. Nothing would be the same, the place has lost its charm, it has left nothing in it, the binding force, our chain, is now broken. Little did we know that the filler of voids will leave a deep void in our hearts. I’ll miss our trips with you to gaon (village) on Eid. Who will sit in your place in our car now? That place will be vacant no matter who sits on it though. I dread the time when I’ll go there & my eyes will seek for you but would fail in their seeking. I dread the time when I’ll go there & not find you greeting us. I dread the place where now you’ll not come & ask kaisay ho? Kya khao gay? Itna kaisay so letay ho? (How’re you? What will you eat? How do you sleep this much?)

My Dear Uncle, you’ve left us emotionally drained, overwhelmed, & confused. What was once our sense of comfort, stability, & support is no longer with us. Coming to terms with the grief your absence brings, is difficult, to say the least. There are things left unsaid, questions left unanswered, words left unspoken. We are navigating through our emotions, listening to the unheard stories about you, expressing our grief through conversations. They do bring emotions hard to handle at first, but we don’t want to give them closure, neither do we intend to, we let your memory turn back every leaf.

My Dear Uncle, loss is no stranger to me, I have ventured this uncharted territory. I know I won’t wake up one morning saying, ‘Hey, I’ve conquered my grief; now I’m ready to move on’. It’s something that’ll walk beside me every day and I don’t know for how long. Yes, you do get healed after an amputation, but gradually. There is no immediate fix for grief either. Everything that heals leaves a scab, that fades with time, whether it’s a scraped knee or a scraped heart.

Time will ease the edge of grief. You will walk beside us every day, unseen, unheard, but always near; still loved & still missed. I know, no one is going to answer my ‘hows’ & ‘whys’ for you, I have to embark a journey myself to realize how & why you became a man worth your weight in gold.

Sincerely yours,
Annie

[Uncle Nisar was my Taya, he lost his 33 years old son to stroke in 2013, later another 33 years old son to Lymphoma in 2018. He was suffering a suffering that he never let anybody have a glimpse of. All his life he woke up consistently at 2:00 am for his ‘Tahajud’ prayers. This year, on the 9^th of Ramadan, he opened his eyes at 2:00 am, only to breathe his last breath. My father was with him when he breathed his last.]

~ QuratulAin Hamza