I was only seven years old. One morning, I didn't want to go to school at all, but I had to go. As I was leaving, I kept looking back at my Baba again and again. It felt as if I was seeing him for the last time. My heart was heavy, but I forced myself to walk to school.
When I returned, the house was empty except for my sister. She told me that Baba had suffered a heart attack and everyone was at the hospital. I was stunned and paralyzed with fear. My sister told me to pray for him, and we both prayed together with all our hearts.
A week later, Mama came home and said Baba was doing better. I begged her to take me to see him. She agreed, but while I was busy with something else, she had to rush back to the hospital. I asked my sister why she didn't wait for me. She explained it was an emergency and that the doctors said his condition was very serious.
A few weeks passed. Then, one day, we were told Baba was finally coming home. I was so happy! I was playing on the roof with my friends when suddenly, I heard the sound of loud wailing from downstairs. I rushed down to find my entire family crying as if their world had ended. I was confused and asked, 'Why are you all crying? Today is a happy day, Baba is coming home!'
Just then, the ambulance arrived. I saw them carrying my Baba inside on a stretcher. Everyone gathered around him, weeping in agony. I went to my Mama and said, 'Mama, Baba is home now, why are you still crying? Why is he sleeping?'
Mama looked at me with broken eyes and said, 'He isn't sleeping, beta. He has left this world.' I was too small to understand. I even asked her to take money from his pocket so I could go buy some treats. Mama started crying harder and said, 'He is gone to Allah now, and those who go to Him never come back.'
When they picked up his stretcher to take him to the graveyard, I panicked. I ran to them and cried, 'Where are you taking him? He just got home!' They told someone to hold me back. I screamed that I wouldn't let them take him. But then they told me the truth: he was never coming back.
The pain I felt in that moment is beyond words. I wasn't just sad about losing Baba; I was terrified for my Mama and my siblings. We were all so young. My father was our only protector. Our relatives, who never liked seeing us happy, finally had their chance to look down on us.
Life became a dark tunnel after that. Slowly, our money ran out. There was no one left to earn for us. We turned to our relatives for help, but they all turned their backs. It's true what they say—when you are doing well, everyone is your friend, but when you fall into poverty, everyone turns away. One day, I saw my mother crying because things had become so desperate..."