Page created by: Azra Siddiqi

Deaddy.

How to describe the loss of someone who loved you more than life? Someone whose love was so infinite you felt yourself constantly enveloped in it. It’s only been two months and I still have difficulty describing what your loss signifies but I’ll try. There is a huge hole in my heart, grieving for the one who knew me best.

I’ve been mourning you for a long time now. Parkinson’s robbed so much of you these last few years, in the end you were a shell of the person you used to be. I tried my best to hold on to those fleeting moments when you’d truly be yourself with us but it was hard. Watching you slowly diminish was one of the most difficult times of my life.

I still remember the day we got your diagnosis and all I could think of was the time we watched Muhammad Ali light the torch during the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta. You said to me, “Look beta at his courage, despite his Parkinson’s he is still strong enough to come out and light the Olympic torch.” It’s ironic that it’s one of my most vivid memories of that trip to Atlanta, but Allah had His plans.

I told myself the diagnosis wouldn’t be too bad and we could continue life as is—I was wrong, so very wrong. A part of me is so angry for what Parkinson’s robbed during your final years but another part of me is fiercely proud of how hard you fought to stay alive and live life to the fullest.

Towards the end when everyone came to visit you, they mentioned how weak you looked. I felt differently. I saw an unbelievably strong man who fought cancer twice, had numerous surgeries/hospital visits, and rarely ever complained about his situation. Someone who fought with every fiber of his being to meet Lizna and with God’s grace you did. You always defied the doctor’s predictions of you and always managed to stay upbeat. I want you to know, to me, you were just as brave and courageous as Muhammad Ali.

Despite all your health issues, I am reminded you led a beautiful life. You immigrated to this country to pursue higher education and start a new life, graduated MBA school with honors, made several lifelong friends along the way, and met the woman of your dreams in college and pursued Mama for six years before she agreed to marry you. The last bit is something I found out when your college friends came to visit us (among other stories 😉)!

As much as I miss you, I’ve enjoyed meeting/talking to your family and friends who have come from all over to talk about their memories of you. Your siblings and cousins remember you as a second father, they looked up to you so much, and remember all the times you’d help your mother around the house and take care of all the kids. Your friends remember your obsession w/playing chess, amazing bbq parties, your hard work ethic, your intense shopping experiences, your love for food and gupshup, your love for Urdu poetry, and your inherent kindness towards others. I hope you know how incredibly loved, respected, and missed you are. Hearing everyone’s stories about you made me feel so proud to be your daughter.

Growing up I resented you like many teenagers do of their parents. You were hard on me, pushed me to pursue higher education, and never settled for less than the best from me. Many of my friends reading this will fondly remember all my “studying at the library” stories while I was actually out w/friends, but looking back I am so grateful that you pushed me to be the best I can be. You always believed in me and reminded me that in your eyes, I could do anything I set my mind to. My ambitions and successes in life are because of you and I hope I made you proud.

I witnessed a marriage where there was a partnership in raising me, doing household chores, support for each other’s careers, and a lot of laughter and love. At the time I didn’t realize how unique it was, but now I understand how lucky I was to observe those qualities. In a world that is inherently misogynistic, you were different. I remember you’d tell me, “Azra it’s a man’s world but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve just as much as any man. Always be confident, never be submissive, and know that whatever happens I’m always here to defend you.” How unbelievably lucky I was to have you as my father—to support my dreams, ambitions, and say to hell with the parochial standards society requires of girls b/c you believed I deserved everything my heart desires. ✨

These days I realize the little things—I’ll never have a new pic of you on my iPhone ever again. Planning a trip and realizing I won’t get to share pics of my trip w/you. Hearing the joy in your voice when FaceTiming Ezina. Lizna recently started giggling, I’m sad you’ll never get to see it. I wonder if this void gets better or it’s just a feeling you get used to.

Deep down I know you’re always with me. I see your face in Ezina’s smirk, the love on mama’s face when she talks about an old memory of you, the loud yells from Lizna, the many similarities you share w/your siblings, and in me. I am so much like you and Ezina is so much like us. I know you’d enjoy making fun of me for the trials Ezina will give me as I gave you.

God willingly, I will see you again but I hope it won’t be for a long time because I want to recreate the many memories I had with you with my kids. Such as living room sleepovers to watch the World Cup soccer games, the chaos in our house getting ready for Eid, coaching my kids in soccer, waking up in the middle of the night asking you to make me a snack, going to the mall for hours and helping you pick out clothes, road trip vacations, a love for politics, and ingraining an intense sense of UP and Pakistani pride. And while you won’t be here with us, we will always be thinking of you.

You always said I was your everything and I wish I could’ve told you that you were mine. I pray you’re at peace, I pray you’re no longer suffering, I pray you’re happy, and I pray for the day when I’ll be reunited with you again. Until then I intend to live my life to the fullest, just as you taught me, with you always in my heart.

Forever and always,
Your little girl

**My brilliant, loving, and adoring father, Afzal Ahmed Siddiqi, gained his angel wings on June 4, 2022. We are grateful he had the opportunity to meet with many family, friends, and his two granddaughters before he passed. Please keep him in your prayers and consider donating to the The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research in his memory so a cure can be found. May God have mercy on his soul.**