Torn...

Today, I stand torn...

torn between happiness and sorrow,

between excitement and fear,

between joy and nervousness.

On the verge of a new beginning, a new life,

the thrill builds by day, 

my happiness knows no bounds.

I am ready to make the jump,

to leap to the other side,

but grief fills my soul

as I think of what I'm leaving behind.

***

This time, next month, I am going to be a married woman, inshaAllah. Not that this is news for me. I've known for months. I've been preparing. I've been on numerous shopping sprees with my mother, grandmother, and friends. I've shopped, planned, designed, ordered; done everything a bride-to-be does. Fussed over all that any girl in my place would. 

In February, this year, I got engaged to the love of my life, in August it was decided that we'll be married in December. This is the day I've waited for all my life. This is the day I've played and replayed in my head time and again. This is the day my friends and I have planned and re-planned a gazillion times during sleepovers and coffee dates.

I am happy, I am excited, I am thrilled. I am getting married to the man I love, the man I've waited for ever since Disney planted the idea of a Prince Charming in my head, the man I prayed for and who came to me as if custom-made for me. I couldn't be happier and more thankful to Allah. 

But amidst all the dreaming, all the excitement, all the hustle-bustle of wedding planning and preparations, and the enthusiasm of building a new life with someone, I seem to have missed a grave reality. 

I am leaving my home. 

Maybe not the house I grew up in, but the people who always made any house we lived in 'home'. As I stand at the threshold of a new beginning, I am leaving behind my parents and my brother. 

I am leaving behind my parents, my mother and my father, the two people that brought me into this world, fed me, clothed me, cared for me, nurtured me, brought me up, made me what I am today. 

I am leaving behind my mother, her gentle touch, her warm hugs, her room-brightening smiles, her sometimes childish humour. I am leaving behind my 'snuggle in bed and talk' moments with her, I am leaving behind the funny names she spontaneously makes up for me. I am leaving behind the woman I used to share a love-hate relationship with while in my teens, and the woman who became my closest friend a few years ago. 

I am leaving behind my father, his forceful demeanour, his not-so-funny jokes, his inability to be moved my emotional blackmail that isn't done by me. I am leaving behind the strongest man I've known, the one who I call out to no matter what needs to be fixed, unless its a broken heart. I am leaving behind the man who sits up in bed at night patiently, waiting for me to leave the room, half-sleeping, while I keep chattering about senseless things.

I am leaving behind my brother, his energy, his witty and sometimes cheap jokes, his breaking out into a dance at any time of the day. I am leaving behind the boy who grew up with me, who understands my parents just like I do. I am leaving behind the boy who would, in the first 6 years of his life, follow me everywhere, would tag along with me always. I am leaving behind the boy you would play with my hair, pull it at times, and once, considering that it would be fun, put chewing gum in my hair.  I am leaving behind the boy who used to tell on me a lot, but eventually turned out to be my secret keeper, my confidante. 

I am leaving behind my home. And no amount of happiness, excitement, and joy can erase the feeling of sudden emptiness inside me. 

Isn't it ironic that parents bring up their daughters with immense love, care and affection, they pamper them, spoil them, they teach them the know-hows of the world, they educate them in the best possible way they can, only to give them away one fine day.