A Dispatch to Heaven

Why do we celebrate inception when we’re meant to die at the end? I asked my conscience. 

Dear Abu, 

It’s been a month and a half since you left us in a state of never ending sorrow. 

It’s me, writing to you to utter out the things I was unable to.

 Do you remember? 

You went to the hospital on your own feet, promising us you’ll be back and now you’re back with four people carrying your weight on their shoulders. 

I still remember the words you voiced Abu. 

“EVERY BREATH I’M GRASPING IS TAKING ME TOWARDS DEATH”

How did I watch you like this? 

Slumbering without a soul, lifeless. Wrapped in a piece of white cloth. 

You were here, breathing, smiling and speaking. Your words still dwell in our home somewhere. Can’t hear the frequency, Maybe. Speak again. Please smile again. Please, talk to me again. Share what you were holding inside your heart. One last time. I promise, we won’t overpass. 

Let me press your feet one last time again. Tell me where does it hurt? 

Just once, look at us again. For we’re yearning to see you alive again. So many things left unsaid, so many things left undone. We were not ready, nor were you. 

You were here, yesterday. At 7:30 pm you said, you felt fine. At this very moment, everything is self same as it was yesterday. The weather, the time, the sky and the earth and the bed you sat on.The sheet you held your hands with, the crumple is still there. Your clothes still hold the aroma of the essence you wore. The one who’s not there is YOU. 

What do I do to bring you back? 

What should I say to the Lord in order to bring back your soul inside that lifeless body. The wrinkles of your skin, near your eyes they are still telling the Story of your struggle, how you went from having nothing, to a life full of satisfaction. Your words dipped in honey, they still linger around in my mind for you know? 

The distress inside my heart pushes me down a deep limbo in despair. People tell me to have patience, how do I tell them? It’s you. My father, who held my hand when I started to walk. You smiled when I uttered my first fragmented word. Your heart laughed when you heard me giggle for the first time. You held me while I closed my eyes. 

You played, loved me, rebuked at me and just cursed yourself for doing that to me. You asked me for my dreams, did everything to make them come true and If they were feasible, would have plucked the stars for me. You watched me struggle, You watched me bawling and held my back. There’s nobody left who’d love me like you. Selflessly, completely, irrevocably. I was your heart you see, you wanted to talk to me and I held on to my work. You wanted to talk to me, took no notice of that. You wanted to talk to me, I chided. 

Now I want to talk to you, and you’re not rejoining, not smiling, not even trying, just lying there peacefully.  My pain is tearing me apart. My heart is burning. My lungs are on the verge of collapse. My hands are numb. My tears are not rolling down my cheeks. They’re not ready to come out. Grief? I’m in no state to understand what that is? Suggest me, what kind of patience do I need to have?

 The stoicism is only going to remind me of you, the misery of your death. So, I’ll just wait for us to meet again. 

Till then I’ll pray to the Lord to unite us again, So that I can tell you, I will always need you. That my existence was because of you. That I need you to love me again. 

Abu, You’re not here anymore, yet you’re everywhere. I love you. 

‘A DISPATCH TO HEAVEN’ is a rundown, a letter full of emotions and grief from a son to his father, On his sudden and unforeseeable death during the pandemic.


Hello, everyone! If you liked this Short Letter, do check out the related posts. Comment and like if you would like to read more similar works from the author. And don’t forget to share this on your social media channels.


Hi! I am Shaista Roohi.

I am a 23 year old science graduate and an educator, struggling to find a meaning to this life. A purpose that can keep me going. Sometimes I am exceptional at articulating my emotions and sometimes I am not. The oldest memory which I have of myself is sitting under a tree at my high school premises and writing about the stuff that was diffusing in my mind. From past 2 years, I have been struggling with anxiety issues which Alhamdulillah I’m overcoming one at a time. Writing for me is something that helped me with having thoughts of existential crises. It heals me.
Right now, What I feel about myself is, that I am somebody who’ll move mountains for the people I love, or someone who show me even a little bit of affection. My goal is to do something for the unprivileged people. People who are finding it hard to reach out. I just wanna tell them that they are not alone.

Email- shaistaroohiktp@gmail.com


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11 responses to “A Dispatch to Heaven”

  1. Thanks a lot shaista..l ll b grateful to u..You did exceptionally well..l have not shared a single photo of him nor any message or anything related to him.. its been almost two month since he left us..l still can’t find words to describe his beautiful and vast journey of life..Now I stopped asking wishes from God..Because he gave me everything by making him my father🙏

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