It’s the year 2011 and I’m standing here at the graveyard knowing that I shouldn’t be here. I found out in the middle of the night of my father’s death and I had rushed to the hospital as fast as I could. When I saw his peaceful face I just wanted to hug him and yell père! Père! I couldn’t believe he was gone. I was all alone in the world. The tears were just falling and falling till I noticed I had wet my veil. My dad had been friends with many people, and all those and many more people came to his funeral but at the mosque not a single soul knew that I was my father’s daughter. I just stood there at the sidelines watching everything being done. When the time came to see the face of the deceased I was last standing there and I cried looking at him. He looked so peaceful and so handsome. After all I did, what my father did was right. I learned my lesson and I learned it well. All the men went to the burial site and buried my dad, about 10 feet into the ground. I sat there waiting for everyone to leave but while the process of the burial was going on I sat there thinking; my dad was now going to be all alone; in the grave. He would have no one to talk to no one to run to, nothing at all. If he was lonely in the grave then I was very lonely alive in the world. My tears wouldn’t stop they went on flowing down my cheeks as my eyes started to get dry because of all the excessive crying I had done. So I got out of my car as the last of the men left and made my way to my father’s grave. I had brought flowers for him because he loved them so much and I put it down at the head of his grave. I bowed my head down and made a prayer for him. The tears that I was crying fell one by one on to the grave as they stated to become a small puddle.
My life ended when my père kicked me out of the house. I'm 21 and in university. My name’s Nawal but all my friends and father call me Noelle the English version to my name. My mother was from Austria and my dad from France. Well my stepdad was. My real father I never knew him he passed on before I was born. I grew up calling my dad père not dad or daddy or anything that children these days call their dad. I was brought up in a strict religious family. One thing that I really missed was that I didn’t have any siblings and I wished I did. My life was one of bliss, well more like until I went and did something that finished my dad’s trust in me. When I was 14 my mom passed away from a heart attack and it was only my stepdad and I. I never considered my stepdad as a stepdad; nope never, as if my mother would ever let me. It was he who took care of me when my mom was working late and if I needed something, and when my mom passed on it was my dad who I turned too. Neither of my parents had any relations so I lived a life of not loneliness but it was only mom, dad and child. I recall a memory of when I was 15, my mother had just passed away last year and I could say I was depressed. She was the one I’d turn to, tell her every little secret and just hug her when I felt like it. Yes, we both had our share of quarrels and fights but in those times my dad always sided with me and took my side. So it was another hard day at school and my père had just picked me up.
“Habbiti why are you crying?” my dad inquired. I had been crying a little before he picked me up, but that was because I was never able to open up to anyone except my mom and mow she wasn’t here to talk too. My friends were always there for me but like I said I could never tell them what I was feeling or what I was thinking. So my dad peered into my face as I sat down and just looked at me and then put the car in drive when I never said anything. Millions of thoughts were going through my head at that moment and I could see my dad staring at me from the corner of eyes for just a bit too longer than usual; and that’s what caused the next impact. We crashed. Alhamdulillah it wasn’t a head on collision but a minor accident.
However, though my dad and I were hurt and the only thing I could hear was “Noelle...Noelle are you okay...”the voice was hoarse and it sounded like père was having trouble breathing. I tried to turn my head and I wasn’t ready to see what I saw then. I felt like my world had ended then and there. It was only a minor accident! Well it looked like that but as I looked on to père I felt the tears well and fall down my cheeks. The ambulance was here and they took us out. My veil was coming off and I tried to pull it down to cover my face but the lady who was holding me tired to put it up until she failed at it.
I could hear myself saying “père...père...no...This can’t be...père...” and on it went. The paramedics’ calmed me down and took me to the hospital. I had to stay there one day because I had a concussion. The moment I was discharged I ran to the room they told me my father was in. When I went in he was awake. He looked at me and smiled. My best friend Mariam had come to see me when she had heard and seeing the condition of my clothes and abaya and veil she brought some of her own for when I could leave. In her clothes I looked and felt so different and my father noticed it too but never commented on it. I looked at him from afar for a bit then walked up to him.
“Père...how...Are you?” I asked him even though I knew it was dumb to ask such a thing. He looked horrible with a neck brace and a big huge bandage on his head. He looked at me and just looked away. I was shocked and I wondered why but I realized because of all the painkillers the doctors were giving him he had fell asleep. The doctor had come in while I was looking at my dad and I knew I was crying looking at my dad’s state. The doctor assured me that all would be good and in no time my dad would up and around.
The next time my dad woke up I was sitting there holding his hand and he looked and said “princess, how are you?” I think those were the only words anyone said or asked these days. “I'm fine père, don’t worry about me. Now hurry up and get okay soon, I need a shoulder to cry on you know” which earned me a smile from my dad.
My dad had a quick recovery and life went on. Although when the two of us were sitting in our living room a few days later he asked me “Noelle darling, why were you crying that day of the accident?” I didn’t know what to actually say because truthfully I had been crying cause of my marks in my classes and because of my mom. I had failed in one of my tests which were 50% of my mark and now I had no idea how to make it up. If I told my dad he’d be pissed because my dad was someone who wanted top grades and all. I wasn’t dumb but I wasn’t smart in all subjects. When it came to English and science I would fail so badly, but when it came to math I excelled better than my whole class. So I kind of evaded the question and said “père don’t worry about it, we shouldn’t worry about the past you know.” My dad never let it go and in the end I told him. The reaction he gave shocked me. He told me it was alright and I could work harder and then he pulled me in his arms where we both broke down, remembering my mother and all the past events that we had gone through ever since she died.
That was when I was 15. As I grew older things started getting worse. The day I turned seventeen I told my dad I wanted a birthday party. Stare at me was all he did and then he slapped me and walked away. I cried that whole entire day. I didn’t leave my room I never received any calls neither did I reply back to my friends texts. I was so shocked and hurt. My father had never hit me. Never. And then I realized what I had done. Birthdays weren’t allowed in Islam and I had asked if I could celebrate mine. I think about it now and realize the group of friends I was hanging around back then weren’t all too good. So the moment I realized my mistake I went searching for my dad in the house. I apologized and he hugged me, and told me to go pray salat’ul tobah. So I did. After praying and cleaning up the mess I had made in my room I cleaned the house and came across something in the attic as I went to go get something from there. It was a dark mahogany jewellery box and in it was a gold necklace that I had never seen. It was in the shape of a heart and in it were the names of Allah’s and the prophets. I stared at how beautiful it was and picked up the whole box and necklace and took it down stairs. My dad was sitting in his chair reading the Quran, but as he saw me approaching him he marked his page and put it on the table beside the chair and looked at me questioningly.
“I wasn’t prying around père but I had gone into the attic to get something and saw this on the table...what is it? Whose is it?” I asked him hastily. He looked at me and looked at the box and turned away. “Père!” I yelled “tell me whose it is?! Pleaseeeee!” I know I was whining but it was worth it. “your biological father left that to your mother for you when you turned 17....I was suppose to put it on your dressing table tonight but, it seems like you are one step ahead of me” he told me. I put the box down and looked at the necklace and I felt tears in my eyes. My dad came close and hugged me.
Then when I was 19 and 20 I had become a hafiza and now done with high school as well. My 2nd and 3rd year of university. I fell into the hands of bad friends. Friends who influenced me and I went along. My father didn’t know anything until one day I came home to find him in a rage. I knew he could smell it on me, the smell of smoke was visible on my clothes, and for some reason I knew he knew everything about me. I didn’t know how, and I never asked him why. When I came in the door he had been waiting for me; because the moment I stepped over the threshold he slapped me and called me foul names. My university was only a girl’s university, they have such things these days, but in the university I had become a popular singer. With my voice I’d sing songs and I was known around. Instead of professing my reading the Quran I sang songs and for that, I knew I was sinning but I went on doing it knowing that people loved my voice. When high school finished me and Mariam ended up going to different universities, she was going into the doctorate field where as I was just learning more and more math. Once my dad slapped me he told me to get my things and leave the house. When I think about it my dad knew that I wasn’t only singing but doing many things that I’d never wish to say or tell; all I knew that all I did back then were all sinful. I stared at him as I started crying but he was serious. I packed my clothes and some stuff that I’d never want to leave behind and went downstairs. I pleaded to my dad to forgive me, it was a mistake but the words he said made me go cold to the bone “Noelle, you broke my trust. I trusted you beyond anything and you broke it. You have gone on to the wrong path and I...----his voice wavered but he composed himself and went on—I can only tell you this but, you never were a daughter to me. I loved your mother beyond anything and that is why I kept you. Your father and I hated each other but because I loved your mother I kept you because she loved you. I knew that as you grew older you’d turn out to be like your father and that is what you have done. I want no person or thing in my house if they will disobey the rules of our religion and God. For that you may leave now and I wish to never see you again!” and with that he pushed me towards the door. As I almost put my foot out he pulled me back and I thought he might’ve changed his mind but instead he pulled my veil off, open the pins to my hijaab and took that off too, and opened my hair so that it fell to its proper length; which was to my knees.
“You don’t need to wear any of that stuff Noelle. After all that you have done you have no right to disgrace the women of our kind. Yes, I say our cause girl you are no part of it any more” and with that he opened the door wide and told me to leave.
The skies were getting darker and rain was going to start to fall but I made my across the rain and wind to my best friend’s house; Mariam. When she saw me enter she stood shocked and her mouth was in agape. We went to her room and I told her the whole story, she never knew most of the parts. Her reaction hurt the most to me than anyone’s. She yelled at me for what seemed like forever and then she looked at me and told me to get out of her house. I just stood there crying letting the tears fall but not saying anything. I put my hijaab on only this time and started to walk out when Mariam too pulled the hijaab off and said “Noelle you have no right to wear that and disgrace the women of our Muslim humanity. Go and show yourself to world as you already have, you shouldn’t be so shameful now” she mocked at me and told me to leave.
I had some money so I used it to rent a room for a while and later transferred out of the university I went to another one far away from the place I called home. My life shattered the moment my father had said those words to me. I never believed him. I never would. It just couldn’t be true. He had a much softer heart than those words he had yelled at me, but he was my father and I knew I was wronged. He was teaching me a lesson but in a very hard manner. Every day I cried and I still do. That day when my father and best friend turned against me I remembered my mother very dearly then. Thinking of all the fights and quarrels I’d have with her, but my father would come to my rescue. With all those thoughts I lived 2 years of my life without him and everyone. I never once talked to Mariam ever again and obviously my dad too. I had no other relations so it was only me, myself and I. I lost complete contact with her and till today I have no idea about her. I went away to a boarding school which offered university credits but had an Islamic air around. I kept on practising my Quran and kept updates about my father. I got a job which in the end helped me a lot. Since I was keeping updates about my father I found out that after he kicked me out, my father was diagnosed with last stage cancer. The money I had from my job I sent to him so that he could get treatment. He lasted for about a year.
When I was little I would say to père “I love you more than mommy, more than anyone. God means alot to me but after him will always be you!” and id jump into his arms and we’d hug each other and he’d put me to sleep. After my mom passed away I never said those words but today as I sit by your grave seeing the fresh earth over you I whisper those words, “I love you more than mommy, more than anyone. God means alot to me but after him will always be you! It’ll always be you père...Always...Always be you...” and I broke down sobbing and crying. After some time I got up gave your grave one last look especially at the tombstone where it was craved:
“Best husband and amazing father”
Those words were what gave me courage to go on with my life. I never forgot my father’s words ever neither my best friends but one thing is for sure I never made the same mistakes ever again. I lived my life in loneliness without my parents and friends but with Allah’s guidance and his way to show me around the world. God helped me alot, I mean it’s his job right? But parents their once and only, you can’t choose your parents neither can you get them back once you lose them. I lived my life in remembrance of my parents especially my father.
My life ended when my père kicked me out of the house. I'm 21 and in university. My name’s Nawal but all my friends and father call me Noelle the English version to my name. My mother was from Austria and my dad from France. Well my stepdad was. My real father I never knew him he passed on before I was born. I grew up calling my dad père not dad or daddy or anything that children these days call their dad. I was brought up in a strict religious family. One thing that I really missed was that I didn’t have any siblings and I wished I did. My life was one of bliss, well more like until I went and did something that finished my dad’s trust in me. When I was 14 my mom passed away from a heart attack and it was only my stepdad and I. I never considered my stepdad as a stepdad; nope never, as if my mother would ever let me. It was he who took care of me when my mom was working late and if I needed something, and when my mom passed on it was my dad who I turned too. Neither of my parents had any relations so I lived a life of not loneliness but it was only mom, dad and child. I recall a memory of when I was 15, my mother had just passed away last year and I could say I was depressed. She was the one I’d turn to, tell her every little secret and just hug her when I felt like it. Yes, we both had our share of quarrels and fights but in those times my dad always sided with me and took my side. So it was another hard day at school and my père had just picked me up.
“Habbiti why are you crying?” my dad inquired. I had been crying a little before he picked me up, but that was because I was never able to open up to anyone except my mom and mow she wasn’t here to talk too. My friends were always there for me but like I said I could never tell them what I was feeling or what I was thinking. So my dad peered into my face as I sat down and just looked at me and then put the car in drive when I never said anything. Millions of thoughts were going through my head at that moment and I could see my dad staring at me from the corner of eyes for just a bit too longer than usual; and that’s what caused the next impact. We crashed. Alhamdulillah it wasn’t a head on collision but a minor accident.
However, though my dad and I were hurt and the only thing I could hear was “Noelle...Noelle are you okay...”the voice was hoarse and it sounded like père was having trouble breathing. I tried to turn my head and I wasn’t ready to see what I saw then. I felt like my world had ended then and there. It was only a minor accident! Well it looked like that but as I looked on to père I felt the tears well and fall down my cheeks. The ambulance was here and they took us out. My veil was coming off and I tried to pull it down to cover my face but the lady who was holding me tired to put it up until she failed at it.
I could hear myself saying “père...père...no...This can’t be...père...” and on it went. The paramedics’ calmed me down and took me to the hospital. I had to stay there one day because I had a concussion. The moment I was discharged I ran to the room they told me my father was in. When I went in he was awake. He looked at me and smiled. My best friend Mariam had come to see me when she had heard and seeing the condition of my clothes and abaya and veil she brought some of her own for when I could leave. In her clothes I looked and felt so different and my father noticed it too but never commented on it. I looked at him from afar for a bit then walked up to him.
“Père...how...Are you?” I asked him even though I knew it was dumb to ask such a thing. He looked horrible with a neck brace and a big huge bandage on his head. He looked at me and just looked away. I was shocked and I wondered why but I realized because of all the painkillers the doctors were giving him he had fell asleep. The doctor had come in while I was looking at my dad and I knew I was crying looking at my dad’s state. The doctor assured me that all would be good and in no time my dad would up and around.
The next time my dad woke up I was sitting there holding his hand and he looked and said “princess, how are you?” I think those were the only words anyone said or asked these days. “I'm fine père, don’t worry about me. Now hurry up and get okay soon, I need a shoulder to cry on you know” which earned me a smile from my dad.
My dad had a quick recovery and life went on. Although when the two of us were sitting in our living room a few days later he asked me “Noelle darling, why were you crying that day of the accident?” I didn’t know what to actually say because truthfully I had been crying cause of my marks in my classes and because of my mom. I had failed in one of my tests which were 50% of my mark and now I had no idea how to make it up. If I told my dad he’d be pissed because my dad was someone who wanted top grades and all. I wasn’t dumb but I wasn’t smart in all subjects. When it came to English and science I would fail so badly, but when it came to math I excelled better than my whole class. So I kind of evaded the question and said “père don’t worry about it, we shouldn’t worry about the past you know.” My dad never let it go and in the end I told him. The reaction he gave shocked me. He told me it was alright and I could work harder and then he pulled me in his arms where we both broke down, remembering my mother and all the past events that we had gone through ever since she died.
That was when I was 15. As I grew older things started getting worse. The day I turned seventeen I told my dad I wanted a birthday party. Stare at me was all he did and then he slapped me and walked away. I cried that whole entire day. I didn’t leave my room I never received any calls neither did I reply back to my friends texts. I was so shocked and hurt. My father had never hit me. Never. And then I realized what I had done. Birthdays weren’t allowed in Islam and I had asked if I could celebrate mine. I think about it now and realize the group of friends I was hanging around back then weren’t all too good. So the moment I realized my mistake I went searching for my dad in the house. I apologized and he hugged me, and told me to go pray salat’ul tobah. So I did. After praying and cleaning up the mess I had made in my room I cleaned the house and came across something in the attic as I went to go get something from there. It was a dark mahogany jewellery box and in it was a gold necklace that I had never seen. It was in the shape of a heart and in it were the names of Allah’s and the prophets. I stared at how beautiful it was and picked up the whole box and necklace and took it down stairs. My dad was sitting in his chair reading the Quran, but as he saw me approaching him he marked his page and put it on the table beside the chair and looked at me questioningly.
“I wasn’t prying around père but I had gone into the attic to get something and saw this on the table...what is it? Whose is it?” I asked him hastily. He looked at me and looked at the box and turned away. “Père!” I yelled “tell me whose it is?! Pleaseeeee!” I know I was whining but it was worth it. “your biological father left that to your mother for you when you turned 17....I was suppose to put it on your dressing table tonight but, it seems like you are one step ahead of me” he told me. I put the box down and looked at the necklace and I felt tears in my eyes. My dad came close and hugged me.
Then when I was 19 and 20 I had become a hafiza and now done with high school as well. My 2nd and 3rd year of university. I fell into the hands of bad friends. Friends who influenced me and I went along. My father didn’t know anything until one day I came home to find him in a rage. I knew he could smell it on me, the smell of smoke was visible on my clothes, and for some reason I knew he knew everything about me. I didn’t know how, and I never asked him why. When I came in the door he had been waiting for me; because the moment I stepped over the threshold he slapped me and called me foul names. My university was only a girl’s university, they have such things these days, but in the university I had become a popular singer. With my voice I’d sing songs and I was known around. Instead of professing my reading the Quran I sang songs and for that, I knew I was sinning but I went on doing it knowing that people loved my voice. When high school finished me and Mariam ended up going to different universities, she was going into the doctorate field where as I was just learning more and more math. Once my dad slapped me he told me to get my things and leave the house. When I think about it my dad knew that I wasn’t only singing but doing many things that I’d never wish to say or tell; all I knew that all I did back then were all sinful. I stared at him as I started crying but he was serious. I packed my clothes and some stuff that I’d never want to leave behind and went downstairs. I pleaded to my dad to forgive me, it was a mistake but the words he said made me go cold to the bone “Noelle, you broke my trust. I trusted you beyond anything and you broke it. You have gone on to the wrong path and I...----his voice wavered but he composed himself and went on—I can only tell you this but, you never were a daughter to me. I loved your mother beyond anything and that is why I kept you. Your father and I hated each other but because I loved your mother I kept you because she loved you. I knew that as you grew older you’d turn out to be like your father and that is what you have done. I want no person or thing in my house if they will disobey the rules of our religion and God. For that you may leave now and I wish to never see you again!” and with that he pushed me towards the door. As I almost put my foot out he pulled me back and I thought he might’ve changed his mind but instead he pulled my veil off, open the pins to my hijaab and took that off too, and opened my hair so that it fell to its proper length; which was to my knees.
“You don’t need to wear any of that stuff Noelle. After all that you have done you have no right to disgrace the women of our kind. Yes, I say our cause girl you are no part of it any more” and with that he opened the door wide and told me to leave.
The skies were getting darker and rain was going to start to fall but I made my across the rain and wind to my best friend’s house; Mariam. When she saw me enter she stood shocked and her mouth was in agape. We went to her room and I told her the whole story, she never knew most of the parts. Her reaction hurt the most to me than anyone’s. She yelled at me for what seemed like forever and then she looked at me and told me to get out of her house. I just stood there crying letting the tears fall but not saying anything. I put my hijaab on only this time and started to walk out when Mariam too pulled the hijaab off and said “Noelle you have no right to wear that and disgrace the women of our Muslim humanity. Go and show yourself to world as you already have, you shouldn’t be so shameful now” she mocked at me and told me to leave.
I had some money so I used it to rent a room for a while and later transferred out of the university I went to another one far away from the place I called home. My life shattered the moment my father had said those words to me. I never believed him. I never would. It just couldn’t be true. He had a much softer heart than those words he had yelled at me, but he was my father and I knew I was wronged. He was teaching me a lesson but in a very hard manner. Every day I cried and I still do. That day when my father and best friend turned against me I remembered my mother very dearly then. Thinking of all the fights and quarrels I’d have with her, but my father would come to my rescue. With all those thoughts I lived 2 years of my life without him and everyone. I never once talked to Mariam ever again and obviously my dad too. I had no other relations so it was only me, myself and I. I lost complete contact with her and till today I have no idea about her. I went away to a boarding school which offered university credits but had an Islamic air around. I kept on practising my Quran and kept updates about my father. I got a job which in the end helped me a lot. Since I was keeping updates about my father I found out that after he kicked me out, my father was diagnosed with last stage cancer. The money I had from my job I sent to him so that he could get treatment. He lasted for about a year.
When I was little I would say to père “I love you more than mommy, more than anyone. God means alot to me but after him will always be you!” and id jump into his arms and we’d hug each other and he’d put me to sleep. After my mom passed away I never said those words but today as I sit by your grave seeing the fresh earth over you I whisper those words, “I love you more than mommy, more than anyone. God means alot to me but after him will always be you! It’ll always be you père...Always...Always be you...” and I broke down sobbing and crying. After some time I got up gave your grave one last look especially at the tombstone where it was craved:
“Best husband and amazing father”
Those words were what gave me courage to go on with my life. I never forgot my father’s words ever neither my best friends but one thing is for sure I never made the same mistakes ever again. I lived my life in loneliness without my parents and friends but with Allah’s guidance and his way to show me around the world. God helped me alot, I mean it’s his job right? But parents their once and only, you can’t choose your parents neither can you get them back once you lose them. I lived my life in remembrance of my parents especially my father.
There is a poem that was originally written with it. It is also called One and Only.
I turned
away
And started
to walk away from you.
I counted and
believed upon you.
You were
the only one who I always turned too
But
you betrayed me,
Used me,
And most of
all hurt me.
I don’t
understand what I should do.
Where will
I live?
How will I
eat?
You couldn’t have done worse to me than what you did now.
You couldn’t have done worse to me than what you did now.
It starts
to rain.
My dark
long hair falls down my back.
The wind
blows and I don’t know where to go.
You didn’t do
well.
Never good
to me.
I turned
around to look at you.
You were miles
away but still there.
I turned
around once again and started to walk away.
*****
Years go by
when I get news of you.
The tears won’t
stop and my voice won’t come out.
I Loved You
You were
the only one I ever loved.
But now you
were gone.
I sat by
your grave
Looking at
your tombstone
Where it
said ”Best Dad”
I wanna
disagree but I can’t
You might
have kicked me outa your house and disowned me to hell,
But then
you were father after all.
I laid the
flowers on your grave,
Bent my
head to pay my respects
And walked
away from you
Just as you
had made me
All those
years ago.
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