I miss you DAD

Exactly 8 years ago on 6th June 1999 my father Sheikh Zafar Ali Pakistani passed away at the age of 58. (His Grave)
May his soul rest in peace

I never imagined he would leave us. He laboured all his life repairing old tyres with his own hands. We are 8 brothers and sisters, and my father was the only person to earn for whole family. Despite limited resources, he tried his best to give all his children best education and comfort. Since 1996 I have been away from my home town for studies. During my college days my father was used to give me whole week earning from the shop so that I could pay study fee. When I got admitted to the university, semester fee was even higher, all the savings were spent on me including my mother's jewelery.

He died of Hepatitis B when I was in the 2nd semester in Multan University. I remember my family calling me and saying that my father was taken to the hospital in Multan. On the next day was my last midterm exam. When I went to the hospital with my friends, my father was in unconcious state. I stayed next to his bed for one hour. My brother suggested me to leave and prepare for tommorrow's exam and come back after finishing exam. He said he alone would take care of dad. So I left hospital. Wish I could have realized it was the last time I would see dad alive.

On that night I couldn't study well, rather my hands were making random sketches. When I returned from the university after the exam I saw my two friends on the road waiting for me. I asked whether they would join me to the hospital to see my father. They didn't reply and rather took me to my room. Upon asking my friend Alvi said, "I've received call from your family. Your father's condition has become well now and he has been taken back to home in Layyah". He repeated it two or three times, but I couldn't believe. Finally he said, "Your father has gone to heavens".

A flood of tears burst from my eyes. I knew my world was taken away. After few days I saw that the sketch I had made that night was of a drop of blood drawn with red marker.

In his memory: my Dad's pages (commemoration, pictures and quotations)

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The Little Boy Lost -- William Blake

Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,

The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew