Eternal aching that knows no bounds

Darman Bin Othman, my one and only Abah.

Assalamualaikum and hi.

It's been a few months now since Abah passed away, and the weight of his absence grows heavier with each passing day. There's a deep ache in my heart, a longing for his presence that never seems to fade. I miss him more than words can express, and I find myself consumed by regret for all the things I wish I could have done differently.

One of my greatest regrets is that Abah passed away too soon. He deserved so much more time, more years to see me grow, to witness my successes, and to share in my joys. I'm still climbing the career ladder, striving to make him proud, but I feel a pang of guilt that I'm unable to give back to him in the way he truly deserves.

I regret that I can no longer treat him to the simple pleasures we once enjoyed together. I can't take him out for his favorite meals or buy him the clothes he loved. It pains me to think that I can't provide for him in the way he provided for me throughout his life.

There are moments that haunt me, moments when I wish I could turn back time and make things right. Like the graduations he missed—watching from afar during my bachelor's degree ceremony due to strict social distancing rules, and being unable to attend my master's degree graduation because of his weakened state post-COVID-19 infection. He sat in the car, refusing to burden anyone with the task of pushing his wheelchair into the hall, while Mama and her best friend, Aunt Fadzilah celebrated my achievements inside. It breaks my heart to think of him sitting alone (accompanied by Uncle Yahya, Aunt Fadzilah's husband), unable to share in those milestone moments.

I miss him with every fiber of my being. I miss his laughter, his warmth, his unconditional love. There are so many things I wish I could share with him, so many moments I wish he could be a part of. I wish he could see me now, successfully reversing into a parking spot, just like he taught me all those years ago. I wish he could be there to cheer me on, to celebrate every small victory.

And it's not just about me. I wish he could be there when I get married, to be my Wali with pride and gratitude shining in his eyes. I wish he could be there to welcome his grandchildren into the world, to watch them grow and thrive. I wish he could grow old with Mama, to hold her hand through every joy and sorrow, to be her rock as she was his.

But most of all, I wish he could know just how much he was loved, how deeply he is missed. Abah was more than just a father; he was my hero, my role model, my everything. And though he may be gone, his love lives on in every beat of my heart, in every cherished memory. Until we meet again, I'll hold onto those memories tight, finding solace in the thought that he's watching over me, guiding me from wherever he may be.

Al-fatihah.