Reunion, Sorrow And Everything In Between

[Beep] pain. [Beep] anxiety. [Beep] helplessness. All encumbered onto that lone creaky bench beside the ICU. Sat on it was Imran.

“This isn’t happening. It’s not real. No, no, NO! Am I supposed to accept this!”

“Calm down Imran, relax. Everything will be okay, don’t worry beta(son).”

…

Six months prior, Imran’s father had just come back from Dubai after working there for well nigh 30 years. He had whitened his hair witnessing the transition of Dubai into what it is today. Back home, in India, he had arranged a house for his family, provided for his children Imran and Ibrahim’s education. And now he was coming back home to his family to enjoy his retirement.

Imran was ecstatic waiting at the airport to welcome his father. He then saw a familiar stout figure of a man in his sixties emerging out of the terminal and immediately recognized him.

“Abbu, Abbu…. I’m here!” called out Imran amongst a burst of other screams.

Father heard the familiar chant with a big grin on his face. After all, they were reunited after a wait of 3 years. He normally visited India every year in the summer, but this time he wasn’t able to come due to certain circumstances, the pandemic being one of them.

“As-salaam-alaikum Abbu(May peace be upon you),” greeted Imran.

“Wale-kumus-slaam(May Peace be upon you too),” responded his father as they held each other in a tight embrace.

The joy of meeting a loved one cannot be described in mere words. Imran was content. Good times lie ahead, he thought. Little did he know what would follow.

They came back to their home, rejoiced the reunion with the rest of the family, and gradually, things went back to normal. But this normalcy had one prime difference; Abbu was there with them.

They relived every moment they had missed. They went on vacations, visited Taj Mahal, Qutub Minar, Red Fort, and what not. This was one of the happiest periods of Imran’s life. All that father love that he had wanted since eternity, all those empty parent-teacher meetings, all that envy toward the friends for they had a father who was close, all those adieus and tears when he went back to Dubai. All of that was now to be no more. Imran thought that this would last forever. But he was wrong.

When all things seem to be going well, life hits you from directions you would never expect. After about 4 months of Abbu’s arrival, he started complaining of lower back pain. He took some painkillers, but the relief was temporary. Upon diagnosis, it was found that he would have to be operated on. Initially, the operation was successful and he was brought back home.

But the temporary relief was a prerequisite to a storm that was about to come.

A month following Abbu’s discharge from the hospital, he suffered a stroke. His left side stopped working along with some damage to his brain. This time it was serious. He had to be rushed to the hospital where he was taken to the emergency ward.

The days that followed saw a series of constant ups and downs in Abbu’s health. There would be days where he would be unconscious. There would also be days when he would talk barely, but he would talk. Imran stayed at the hospital during the nights as he had work to do in the morning, and Ibrahim and their Ammi(mother) stayed there during the day.

Exactly 15 days following the admission of Abbu, when Imran was in his office, he got a call. It was from Ibrahim.

“As-salaamualaikum Imran bhai(bro).”

“Walei-kumusalaam” responded Imran.

“Well…uh… I need to tell you that...ugh” There was hesitation in his voice. “Abbu has…

Imran bit his tongue, he knew whatever was about to come wouldn’t be pleasant. He had been thinking about it for a long time. And that moment was here“What happened, tell me!”

“Abbu…ugh” his voice breaking, Imran could hear his mother crying in the back.

“Abbu…He passed away at noon. Please come here quickly.”

“Okay…okay, I’m coming!” A plethora of emotions consumed him. He went numb for a moment, wanted to sit, to pinch himself, believe that it was just a dream, but he couldn’t afford to do that, at least not yet. He hurried past the office gate without writing a leave application.

Imran looked at his father through the window of the outer door of the ICU. His father always seemed so strong, so brave, and yet, there he was, lying unconscious, fragile, as he had never seen him before.

Imran sat beside his mother on that lone creaky bench beside the ICU, previously home to many patients and their attendees, anxious, helpless, and in pain.

“This isn’t happening. It’s not real. No, no, NO! Am I supposed to accept this!”

“Calm down Imran, relax. Everything will be okay, don’t worry beta.” Consoled his mother, who herself, was devastated.

But Imran was beyond any consoling now. He blamed himself, he blamed the doctors, he blamed his father for dying. He couldn't contain himself and cried into Ammi’s arms.

Abbu had left the family forever. There will be no more goodbyes now. This was the final one.