The Last Time I Saw My Father

It was a Sunday, eleven years ago, during the winter season in Kashmir. I was in grade 7, and the month of February was especially cold. Around noon, my father returned home from the bazar, bringing a chicken with him for us. He sat down and happily ate daal chawal. My mother had been ill for several days, but that day, she was 90% recovered, which brought my father great relief. He had been so worried about her, and I’m grateful that he witnessed her recovery.

After lunch, my parents got ready to visit one of my uncles’ houses. My aunt had passed away just two days earlier, and they wanted to go console the family. For some reason, I decided to follow them for a few steps. I walked into the lawn and stood there, watching them leave.

Our village has a path that leads up to a peak, and I could see them walking along that way. As they moved forward, my father turned around and looked at me. He smiled. I still feel the warmth of that smile in my heart. I was gathering branches to start a fire to keep myself warm, but in that moment, I couldn’t help but notice the look on his face. His smile was filled with so much — perhaps a message or something he wanted to tell me. It wasn’t just a smile; there was a certain pain in it, one I can never forget.

After that, my parents continued on their way, and I went back inside. Little did I know that would be the last time I would ever see that smile.

It was part of God’s plan, but I often wonder why he smiled that way. What was he trying to say? I wish I could go back and share my life journey with him, listen to his advice, and understand the meaning behind his final smile. There’s still a part of me that longs for that moment, to know the unspoken words he wanted to share. May his soul rest in peace.

May Allah heal everyone and grant peace to our hearts.