Death over Disgrace

Come Along!

So we lived on with our lives adjusting to one another’s demands until one day I came home to find my father crying, moving close to him I had asked the reason, terrified as to what might have happened. He had replayed saying that his mother was ill and all he could do was sit here and cry, that he wanted to be by her side and hold her hand. I had sat beside him with tear filled eyes, growing up without a mother; I could feel the pain he might have been feeling, the urge to be by her side anyway possible. So I had told him that we would do our best to help him go and be by her side, picking up my phone I had called some of my friends who could have helped me with this. Hours later I had received a call from one of them saying that we could go to Pakistan and than from there we could cross the border, he said that he had some connections and he could arrange things for us if we wanted him to. I had told my father this and had asked him to get his stuff ready, at that moment I had seen a sheen of happiness in his eyes, tears falling down involuntarily, he had opened his arms for me, eager to share his pleasure I had rushed into them, to feel what he was feeling, to know how it felt to go back where you belonged, among the ones your heart ached to see again and as he had tightened his arms around me he had said something I had never expected him to say, “come along.” He had said. Had he just ask me to come with him? The daughter whom he had ones said was a disappointment and a discontinuation of his culture. Eager to win his approval for once, to prove to him that he had not raised a daughter who could not make him happy, I had said yes.
To be continued...