i have looked and looked but I have no pictures of him however it'll always be hard to forget how your blood dripped dripped dripped down onto the floor of the emergency ward and i thought I would have been laid in the bed adjacent to yours because of how my heart stopped beating, and how the last things I asked you was if you needed anything but you always said that no, my love, I'm fine and you were strong still and as I sat with your daughter next to me and her head in her hands being told that her father had a heart attack mine stopped beating and when they towed you away to the surgical ward and I sat out thinking that this was normal and that all of our family was made of weak hearts and rash, hard words and I was so sure you would be fine and you would come out of the room, still asleep, but breathing and safe and fine but I was sent away and I never knew that a four in the morning and blood on the floor was the last time I was seeing you, breathing. And when she asked if I cared I said I didn't. But lying came as easy as blinking because I did and I always will and all you remain as in my memory are loud words and a pat on the head and and false accusations and lies and abandonment and a cold body in a room in a masjid.
