It’s 11.30 p.m and I’m in Heathrow taking the tube and I start having a panic attack like I have never experienced before. I came close to passing out, something I have never done. I knew instantly I needed friends around me.
I called and texted four of the most important people to me in London. I needed those four girls at my place just in case I wouldn’t be the same again. I needed them to know their importance to me and even if I didn’t tell them or had a hard time showing it that, I loved them and appreciated them. They were all important to me in different stages of my life. I call four of my girls, One showed up. Payzee was in my flat before I even got there which was a huge relief, she also lived the furthest #sidenote. She was there for me all night the whole night until I had to go to the airport. For that Payzee I will forever be there for you, no matter what. I am yours truly. You a great true friend, and I haven’t been able to talk to anyone yet but when I’m ready you’ll be the first. My cousin Fatma came at 4 in the morning and brought food and stayed with me. I lit candles and my head was going back and forth. Is he alive or did they say stroke to cover the fact that he’s dead and they don’t want to tell me before I get to Holland? So many thoughts. I went back and forth all night out loud and in my head, is he alive or not. Fatma knew my dad was gone but couldn’t tell me. In a somewhat twisted way, I appreciate that she didn’t tell me. The hope he was alive was what I needed to get on that plane. I felt it however, that he was no longer with us but I chose not to believe it.
I landed in Rottendam 9.30, shortly after I saw anti Mariam, Gigi and the two men that lived with my dad. And I huged them and said take me to the hospital. Gigi burst into tears and it was confirmed, my darkest most horrified thoughts. And all she could bring to herself to say was “han är inte längre med oss gumman.” I will never forget those words for the rest of my life. They were out this world and I still can’t believe it. I’m sure you’re mistaken. And they said they found him dead in bed at home around 1 p.m. I sat in the car to be driven to his place and I just stared straight ahead, I couldn’t move, think or cry. Marvin, Dati and my mum arrived 45 minutes later. I sat in the balcony and I bursted into tears. I wasn’t done, he wasn’t done yet! He never got to travel the way he deserved, he didn’t get any grandchildren. He loved kids more than anything and he never got the chance to be a grandfather. He would have become such a great Babu. Image how lucky those kids would have been to have him as their grandfather. All the things I wanted to do for him were gone. They were not a possibility anymore and I felt robbed. I felt disbelief and then came a wage of despair and lastly I felt numb. And that feeling is still with me 26 days later. I’m still numb and can’t seem to breathe.
(Today it’s day 79.) I feel good enough to finally publish this.