One Week

It has been one week since I have lived on this Earth without my grandfather. It is still shocking. At 1:30 this morning, I was in a panic - it is just now beginning to sink in that I can't pick up the phone and talk to him. I can't hug him. Oh, it hurts.

When I close my eyes, I do not see him when he was sick. I see him wearing a white button-up shirt, dress pants and walking around the house. I see him answering the phone, with a serious "Hello" and then completely changing his tone when it was one of his children. "Ah, Neghina!" "Ah, Chorta!" Those were the nicknames he had for his oldest and his youngest. Whenever any of his five children would call, his face would light up. And oh, how he loved my mother. How he loved us all.

He was truly a light in this world.

The first memories of my life are with him and my grandmother. I would spend every weekend with them until I was 6 years old, when they went to Belgium for a sabbatical. I remember waking in my crib beside their bed and peering out over them, while they slept. I remember sitting in the floor of their living room, looking at a book upside down. I was the first grandbaby, and loved every moment of fuss made over me.

One of my most treasured memories is when he would take me in his office and thump the brass plates that hung on the wall. I delighted in the sound that it made. I just felt so loved, so adored. And I loved and adored him right back.

I thank God he was at my wedding. He spoke at the Nikah (Muslim ceremony - I had two wedding ceremonies). I remember him choking up. He was happy. I was happy. I will treasure his presence there my entire life.

At my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary party in July, I gave a speech. I told both of them what they meant to me. I told them how much I had learned from them. How much I loved them. I said that while life isn't a fairy tale, the time I spent with them was so magical that it might as well have been one.

From him, I learned moderation. He was such a kind, gentle soul. I never heard him raise his voice. I never heard him talk ill of anyone. He had a beautiful heart. When I knelt at his grave, I told him that I would strive to be more like him and then I asked God to give him the reward for his example.

He loved education. God, family, humanity and education - those were his priorities. He knew that education was the key to a better life and he instilled that in all of us. He was supposed to be at my graduation next Friday. I was so happy. And now, well there will be a huge hole. I think there will always be a huge hole.

I remember talking to him on the phone. A few months back, I was waiting on my friend to meet me to get our monthly manicure/pedicures. For 20 minutes, I stayed on the phone with Abbu - talking religion and politics. I learned so much from him. How I treasure every second I spent talking with him.

The rabbi in my hometown emailed my mom. His next sermon is inspired by my grandfather. I read it; it made me so proud. He is talking about how he lost a friend - a Muslim friend - and that he knows what true Muslims are really like. He encourages his congregation to remember that; that they are living examples of Judaism. The fact that my Muslim grandfather inspired a Jewish rabbi - need I say more?

I am so proud to be the granddaughter of Dr. Zahir U. A. Warsi.

Labels: family