A letter to no one.

Dear You,

I don't know who you are or where you are, but I know that you will listen to me. So I will write to you.

See, it's been exactly a year today, 18th August, 2011 that my Ammanji passed away. Calling my grandmother Ammanji was most comfortable to me even though Baba had tried me to get to call her Dado or something like that. But the former always had a nice ring to it.

Anyway, where was I? So, today, I don't know why, I miss her more than ever. I didn't even realize it's been a whole year since that happened. It is one of those days that is etched in your memory forever, whether you like it or not. But I miss her. I miss her smile, I miss her presence, I miss her everything.

I know she had to go back to Allah at her alloted time, and that no one could change her fate even if they tried because Allah willed it to happen last year. Nevertheless, it is so strange to have become used to a life where you don't feel her being there. Her frail, old hands grasping mine with love. And even though she couldn't speak towards the end, whenever I sat beside her, she always looked at me with that glint in her eye that made my heart ache.

The thing is, while she was leaving, she taught me the most important lesson in my life. While her soul left her body and I was just left standing there, aghast, watching it all happen, I realized that life is what death takes away in mere seconds. It made me realize how temporary my body really is, how temporary we all are. It made me realize that the next breath I breathe could decide my fate for the Day of Judgement.

I just hoped she knew always how much I loved and cherished her. I dearly miss her. And living in a house without her is just so strange even though sometimes, I'm too busy with my life to notice it. And that makes me sad in the strangest of ways.

But life? Life has gone on.

Thanks for listening.

Love,

Me.