Ami, God's Got You Now :)

Losing a grandparent - pretty ordinary thing, right? Same old "Ah man, they got old" or some cruel illness invading them. It's a fact, that death's inevitable, has to come take you and me away. But what if.. What if you could cheat death? Steal a day, knowing the person would be gone the next. 
Around 5:15 a.m, 21st May 2011, my Daadi, my Ami, died. She left me. She left us all. Silently creeping out of the bedroom every night, breath caught in tight holds, tears tumbling down, I think of her. Same typical thoughts - how good she was, so pious, so funny, so unique. If I'd known God'll take her, I'd've begged Him for another day. I would. I would. 
I would have spent the day with her. Watched Dr. Israar's fanatical speeches she fancied - "Daadimi ka boyfriend" was what we'd dubbed him - and watched those silly but oh-so-entertaining Star Plus soaps which she devoured with Amma. I'd've told her all the Pathan jokes I could gather - she laughed at them till her voice became hoarse. I'd've made her wear a red sari, red nail polish, a lily in her hair.. She promised me - she promised me she'd dress up with so much pomp and swagger at my wedding. I'm lucky to have found my Prince Charming, my jaan, my everything. If I had a day, I'd've married him, with Ami in all that red, there. 
Ami was so ill.. So ill. In the last few months, I had lost the courage to step into her room and sit for hours like I used to. On a long term catheter, almost paralysed, prey to multiple strokes, tubes and drips and injections.. I didn't have the heart to see her like this. My Ami, my Daadimi, who'd walk to her cupboards giving me cookies I loved, lotions and creams, giving me neck massages and oiling my hair.. Teaching me Salah. Teaching me duas.. My Ami was bed ridden. Grey. Stoic. 
My Ami loved me when my parents resented me. My Ami trusted me, had faith in me when rotten relatives complained about me. My Ami doted on me, more than she doted on anyone. And my Ami, was my Daadimi.
She was strong. She had the most amazing, crazy, wacky, brilliant sense of humour. Telling her all sorts of jokes - that became our thing. She confided her sons' weaknesses in me - my strong Tayas, my Dad - all their weaknesses. She told me things my parents hid from me, trusting that I'd handle it maturely. My Ami was a great lady. 
I sprained my ankle three days after she died. Before that I had missed her Janaza because I fell asleep; fatigued, tired, hurt. I knew she'd understand. So anyway, after I got a plaster, I was living in Ami's room, having Amma take care of me. I never felt her absence because.. I just didn't. It's like she was there. There in that room. With me. Like she hadn't died, rather.. Seeped into my mind and heart. Ami always prayed I'd get "Hidayat" - whatever that is, but in a way God was comforting me by connecting Ami and I.. Even after she's passed on
Days went by. It's the 18th day. I pass her room, it's empty. Ami left me again. Seeing Amma sleeping alone under the soft, swift whirring of the fan, I see now: Ami really has gone back to God.
Can it be possible? That a person dies, but isn't really dead? Is it possible, that when a person isn't really dead, they can leave you again when it was just their presence you felt?
Ami was my pillar. I'd rant to her about what bothered me, call her "Maata Jee" and laugh with her, saying silly things in my broken Punjabi. Just to see the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. I'd stay up fearlessly in the dark morning hours, because Ami would be there. I'd allow myself the liberty to temporarily hate my parents, because I had Ami to vent it all out to. I had someone to laugh with at the most atrocious jokes, because I had Ami and her dazzling sense of humour.
Ami was pious. Cared about religion, the Quran, Yada yada yada. Ami taught me Salah. I remember every day at Asr I'd go into her room and start imitating her - I even learnt her Punjabi niyat! Ami gave me a gift no one could. And Ami will keep on getting rewards for it, iA. Around August 2010 onwards, I was the one helping Ami pray. So much so, Asr-Maghrib-Isha were mandatory done my me. What honoured me was, how she'd specifically tell Amma to call me to help her pray. 
There's so so so much more about Ami to be disclosed. I was a wild child, to tone me down, my Mama would threaten to send me to the Murree Convent hostel, regarding which I had a very Disney-evil-like image in my mind. Ami would turn around and say: Agar yay jaey gi tou mai mar jaoon gi. Yay meri jaan hai.
God, I know you have my Ami. That's where she wanted to be. But please let her know I love her. Please let her know I miss her. That I need her. Please take care of her, God. I love You and I trust You. My Ami is MY jaan. Please: Please take care of her till I come see You. 
I love you Ami. 
Tusi meri jaan ho. Assi tenu bohot yaad kardey pae. Saada intizaar karo. Assi teray kol inshallah zaroor awan gay <3