Growing up without any siblings may be a dream for others, but for some its a reality which they dislike. A lot.
Life was boring as I was growing up, especially after losing the one woman whom I loved so dearly at such a young age. Although I don't remember much about my time with her or the moments that we shared, there was always that void inside of me that grew day by day since she left the world.
Once it was just Dad and I, we'd spent time together after School but not much; things always got in the way of our relationship and it was hard to see him sometimes. However, once he married again, I really couldn't come to terms with things. Everything was a blur to me; I remember arguing with him and begging him not to forget my Mum and leave her behind. I was only a child at the time and I didn't understand how lonely my Father actually felt. Thinking back, it must have hurt to lose such an important person in his life; a woman whom he grew up with and soon fell in love with. After re-marrying a different woman, I remember him looking more at ease but when I ponder upon his relationship with her, I can't help but think that he only married her to fill the void in his heart and give me a female figure in the house to grow up with. Without a doubt, I know that Dad was always incomplete without his other half and I was too, without the woman who gave birth to me through such pain and agony. It was never going to be the same without her in our lives but my Dad would always try to make me feel at home in some way.
However, through the years after he re-married, he became engrossed in his work life and new children. He was given a step son and also had another child of his own through his new marriage. I couldn't help but feel as if I was being thrown at the back, behind everyone and anyone; I was ignored by my Father due to his new family and lifestyle. I guess he had just forgotten that I needed him more than anything but he must have believed that I was growing up and I didn't need anyone to help me as I was growing up to become an 'independent woman'.
He failed to realise that a daughter will always need her Father.
After tucking my pendant underneath my top, I brush myself off and make my way out of my bedroom. My tummy rumbles due to the fact that I had forgotten to eat lunch and locked myself away in my room for way too long.
As I open the door, the sounds of laughter is heard from down the stairs and I feel my heart lurch at the melody. I purse my lips and walk closer towards the balcony of the stairs to lean against it, listening to the happy conversation that was taking place in the front room. Nafisah's giggles rise and her brother begins to snort at something which their Mother has just said or done.
I close my eyes and let the laughter run through my ears and I gently let my knees fall on to the carpet as I hold on to the railings. Leaning my forehead against it, I inhale a deep breath.
Nafisah screams at the top of her lungs in happiness as she protests about being tickled. Her brother mock bellows out some orders and her Mother laughs evilly.
A sad smile makes its way onto my lips as of hearing the sound of my little sister bursting into another fit of giggles; her laughter soaring through my heart as she plays with her family.
I can't help but feel like an outsider in my own home- the home in which I was raised. This house belongs to me yet the family who I decided to share it with seem to make me feel as if I don't belong.
I swallow the growing lump in my throat as my heart begins to feel heavy. I fight against myself to push back the feeling of unhappiness and try to gather myself up. Letting out a shaky sigh, I make my way back into my room, completing forgetting the fact that I was hungry.
As soon as I'm back inside, I close the door and lean against it, keeping the palms of my hands planted onto it. The laughter and chatter coming from downstairs fade into a muffle through the thick wooden door. I begin to try and calm myself down by breathing in and out, taking my time. My eyes slowly close and I'm surrounded by a blissful darkness.
Dad raises three year old Nafisah into the air before throwing her up. She squeals in happiness mixed with excitement, knowing that her Father will definitely catch her into his loving arms which he does. His soothing laugh hits every corner of the room and his smile reaches the corners of his tired eyes as he holds Nafisah tight against his broad chest. His large hand is placed around her little waste and the other holds her head lovingly. He soon begins to sway side to side as Nafisah likes, his beautiful smile never leaving his lips. Rimsha soon joins them and Dad brings out an arm to embrace her; she leans her head onto his shoulder with a content smile upon her face.
"Haven't you got any work left to do?" She asks as she snuggles her face into the crook of his neck, making me feel sick. She shouldn't be doing that.
Dad laughs a little and kisses her head. "Not for tonight," He holds his baby out in his arms and Rimsha lifts her head of my Dad's shoulder. Nafisah's big eyes twinkle with anticipation before Dad throws her into the air once again and she squeals with laughter when he catches her swiftly. "I want to spend it with my beautiful daughter," His eyes bore into the innocent toddler and his smile grows wider within seconds. "She's growing up so fast but I'm hardly here to see my princess!"
My nails begin to dig into the railing of the stairs as frustration builds up inside of me.
I'm growing up too but he doesn't bother to make an effort to spend time with me. Aren't I his daughter too?!
"Alvina?" I hear Dad suddenly say and my eyes snap up to look at him, dreading his next words. Fortunately, he's still talking to his wife. "No, I shouldn't bother her when she has a lot of homework to do. Habibti needs her own space."
I furrow my eyebrows in anger and stand from my seat on the stairs. Immediately, I charge up the stairs as quiet as I possibly can before racing into my cold bedroom. I bite the inside of my cheeks as I close the door. I lean my back against it as I drum my knee back and forth, trying to hold back a sob.
Before I know it I realise that my vision has become blurry and the whole room begins to spin. My lips tremble and I slide my back against the door, landing on the carpet gently. I bring my hands up to my head and slide my fingers underneath my headscarf to grab the roots of my hair.
Anger, regret and sadness are eating me up inside and I can't do anything about it. The feeling of loneliness somehow seeps it's way into my heart and somehow I just feel empty. Everyday is a hidden battle, one which I try hard to ignore yet this sinking feeling lingers in my chest, all day, every day.
The lump in my throats grows bigger and a sob escapes my lips involuntarily, my breathing becoming heavier. Hot tears stream down my burning face and land in my lap, the drops darkening the colour my skirt.
I never tried hard enough with Dad, I should have told him how I felt but I didn't because I was arrogant and rude. I thought that he should make the first move and realise how I felt but I was stupid enough not to understand that he was a man; a man who thought that giving his teenage daughter some space would do her good. A man who left for work early in the morning and came back late at night, yet was too tired to acknowledge his own daughter who would skip some hours of sleep just to see her Father.
However, soon he came to realise how far we had actually drifted apart which was great, although at the time I actually became engrossed with College and work. I was extremely grateful that he was trying his best to plan out a day with me - just me - even though I knew we both had a lot of work to complete. He still went ahead with it and ignored my light protests but to this day I wish I had tried harder to stop him.
"Come on!" Dad's rough hand sneaks its way into mine and I can't help but smile. He closes the car door on my side before quickly jogging over to the drivers side and hopping in, his face radiating with excitement.
He begins to drive to our destination, making lame jokes along the way yet never failing to make me giggle.
I've missed him so much that I just have to cherish these few hours I have with him. After all, I don't know when this will ever happen again.
I turn my head to face Dad, his eyes focus on the road ahead yet his free hand plays with the SatNav that's stuck onto the glass window; it somehow has began to play up he said.
He furrows his eyebrows in confusion and I watch as the wrinkles grow on his forehead. Over the years, the lines on his face has deepened due to stress and I can't help but feel sympathy towards him. I smile in admiration as he rubs his face after a little while, growing tired with all this driving and entertaining me, I guess.
"Baba?" I whisper to him and he hums in response, still fidgeting with the SatNav whilst trying to focus on the road.
We begin to pass through a deserted, long and narrow road that's surrounded by dark trees. I look around and wonder where he is taking me exactly.
"I'm taking my beautiful daughter to a place where I used to take her as a child," He says as if reading my mind. He turns to look at me and smiles softly. "We used to stay there sometimes. Me, you and your Mum."
"Oh..." I say, trying to think back to what he is talking about but nothing really clicks.
"You'll see, habibti." He chuckles as he finally fixes the SatNav and the woman starts speaking again. He looks back towards the road and changes the gear of the vehicle. "Patience, darling. Patience."
I smile down at my lap before relaxing into my seat, enjoying the presence of my Dad.
Leaving behind everyone and everything feels great; it's just the two of us again.
After a little while, I giggle to myself before opening my mouth to speak; I suddenly feel the need to express my feelings to him. I need to tell him how much I've missed my Baba and how much I actually really love him, albeit I don't show it very well with all my mood swings.
I turn to look at him once again, my smile wide. Taking a deep breath in and clearing my throat, once again I open my mouth to speak.
However, instead of letting words flow through my mouth it is replaced as fear drills through me. I let out a gasp within a millisecond as I watch my Dad's eyes widen in alarm and his arms suddenly jerk at the steering wheel.
I hold my face in my hands before shuffling my way over to my bed to grab a pillow. My sobs grow louder and louder as I try to muffle the sounds through it, albeit it doesn't help much. I gasp for air as the memories stream back into my mind, my hands beginning to shake with fear.
It's all my fault. I didn't stop him that day.
My heart is hammering against my chest and I suddenly begin to lose air in my lungs. I widen my eyes when I realise that I'm panicking; the memories sending me into a panic attack.
Throwing the pillow across the room, I rip off my headscarf to pull at my hair whilst gritting my teeth in frustration. My breaths are quick and sharp as I begin to feel heat rise all over my body causing me to fling off my top, leaving me in my under shirt. I then scurry away to the corner of my room, holding my knees against my chest as tight as possible.
My mind is whirling with images and I can't seem to stop them.
I bite on my teeth in an attempt to stop my crying but it only makes me angrier than I already am. I rock back and forth, my back thrashing against the wall as I do so and the pain hits my spine every time but I don't care. Now my breathing seems to be escaping from my lungs as I heave for air, my chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace.
The room begins to spin and the voices begin to yell at me from all corners, caving in on me. I clash my eyelids together and slam the palm of my sweaty hands onto my burning ears, shaking my head viscously, wanting to yell at them to shut up but not having the energy to do so as simply breathing has become difficult within the span of minutes.
He's gone because of me, he's not breathing because of me. My Dad, my own Father, my Baba. I let him go all because I wanted one day out with him, all because I didn't interact with him sooner. He wanted to treat me to a special day out, just me and him but it ended up a disaster.
A disaster is what I am.
The sobs that pass my lips hit every wall in my room and soon they grow quieter. The air in my lungs finally return and my breathing level goes back to its usual pace.
After a good few minutes, my body begins to relax as I take in slow, deep breaths whilst reciting "Allahu".
Surprisingly, the room plunges into an eerie silence followed by a soft static ringing drilling through my ears and I slowly open my wet eyes to look around. The room is still, not running around in circles as it was before.
I listen to my heart beating inside of my chest and hear the slow breaths I take. Chills run down my spine as I sit motionless on my carpet, my bare arms growing goose bumps and the little hairs rising from their positions.
I feel weak and extremely tired; mentally and physically.
Laying my head back against my wall, I exhale in exhaustion. My body yearns for sleep yet for some reason I seem to disobey and instead hurl myself off the ground and into the bathroom after making sure I was fully covered, although not securely.
I groggily enter and lock the door behind me. I stumble towards the sink before slamming my hands onto it. I take a deep breath in and swallow the excess spit in my mouth. Finally, I raise my head to look into the mirror and I lightly laugh at myself: my hair attacks my headscarf which causes it to slip off and land onto my feet, strands of my hair stick out in different directions, my dry lips are almost to the point of bleeding, my face is a light shade of pink and my eyes are bloodshot.
Nice.
I quickly jump into the shower and clean myself off, relaxing my muscles as I let the steaming water run down my skin.
A good half an hour later, I'm sat on my prayer mat after having prayed Maghrib Salah. My Qur'an sits in front of me on its stand and I smile sadly at how heedless I have been with actually taking the time out to recite the words of Allah. Astaghfirullah.
My fingers trace the cover of the Holy Book and after a few seconds, I peel it open, my eyes suddenly finding the Arabic letters intriguing.
As I begin to recite, my heart begins to feel at ease. The words flow right through me and calm my nerves by replacing them with peace. My voice is a little hoarse, however it does not stop the melody from escaping my lips due to the intensity of the words in front of me.
I know that I have been far from the Deen for a long time but I do try, I try but I know I do not try my best. I understand that this is why I am the way I am; not connecting with God means that I feel as if I have no-one to turn to. When in fact He's always been there.
Why do I feel so lonely when I know that God is with me?
I ponder upon the translation of the Qur'an as I take in a deep breath.
"And He is with you wherever you are" - Qur'an, 57:4.
How stupid have I been?
I carry on reading a few more verses, an occasional feeling of sadness mixed with peace filling up inside of myself until a soft knock comes at my door.
"Come in," I say after closing my Qur'an and Nafisah walks inside, carrying a tray of food in her little hands. Her tongue sticks out of her mouth as she focuses on trying not to drop it.
I smile at her and quickly take the tray from her hands before placing it onto my bedside table.
"Mummy said you must be hungry!" Nafisah says and hugs my head, leaning her body against it and messing my headscarf in the process. "She made you some food because you've been upstairs for so long!"
She gets off me and I turn around to face the window; it's pitch black outside.
"I've been busy," I whisper and push a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes travel down to where I'm seated and she claps in excitement. Instantly, she runs out of my room and within seconds she is back, her face is wet and a headscarf has been placed on her head lopsided.
I shuffle to the side of my prayer mat and pat the empty space besides me, gesturing for her to sit next to me. She does so and I sling an arm around my little sister and pull the Qur'an stand in front of us.
Her eyes sparkle in excitement and she leans closer towards the Qur'an, reciting some words slowly in a whisper. She then looks up expectantly at me and I smile at her. Clearing my throat, I begin reciting Surah Duha- my favourite Surah.
As I do so, my voice flows out in a soft wave and Nafisah turns her head to share at me, showing me that she's enjoying this.
She's always loved reciting with me and I love to do so with her. For some reason, Rimsha has never bothered to send her back to Mosque after Dad had passed and so I take it upon myself to teach my sister what I know from time to time. Whenever I bring out my Qur'an, I tell her to join me, excluding this occasion due to the previous event which I'm trying to forget.
With every sentence I recite, I scan the meaning below it and instantly smile when I stumble across my favourite verse.
"Your Lord has not forsaken you nor does He hate you."
- Surah Duha, verse 3.
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Little sad but you need to know how Alvina feels :( Anyways, I really need to shorten the length of my chapters so I can update earlier! What do you think? x