Forever in Our Hearts

The silence left behind by the passing of someone we love is a silence too heavy to fill. My beloved uncle, Mohammad Hakim, is no longer with us, and his absence is a void that words can barely capture. His passing has made the days feel longer, quieter, and far emptier. Time, as fleeting as it always is, seems even more fragile now, as though a meaningful life can slip through our fingers in an instant, leaving us only with the torment of loss. Death, as they say, keeps no calendar.

Hakim baba was born and raised in a modest middle-class family, and from his early years, he learned the values of hard work and determination. Despite the odds, he possessed an indomitable spirit, a will to do better, to push forward no matter the circumstances. He served in the Jammu and Kashmir State Forest Corporation, where he worked with sheer honesty and dedication until his retirement. His workplace was not just a job to him—it was a space where he believed in fostering a healthy, kind, and supportive environment.

To everyone who knew him, he was the embodiment of kindness and humility. A compassionate man, always soft-spoken, always with a gentle smile on his face. He extended a helping hand to anyone in need, whether it was his family, his friends, or even strangers. His heart was a wellspring of generosity.

In many ways, my uncle was the calm in the storm. He had a serene presence about him—a patience that few could rival and a sense of gratitude that illuminated every action he took. He had an uncanny ability to find the positive in any situation, no matter how difficult it was. Setbacks didn’t overwhelm him; they only seemed to push him to keep going, to keep inspiring us to do the same. He was a source of endless support, a quiet yet persistent guiding light for all of us.

The shock of his passing still hasn’t settled in, and I’m not sure it ever will. He fought a valiant battle against a life-consuming disease, enduring pain and suffering with a grace that only someone of his strength could. Even in his final moments, he remained steadfast, holding onto life with every ounce of his being. His strength, however, wasn’t enough to keep him with us. It’s still hard to believe he’s no longer here.

When I close my eyes, countless memories come rushing back—memories of a man who always made time for others, who listened without judgment, and who gave without ever expecting anything in return. I can still hear his voice, still see his face. His aura remains around us. And though all we have left are memories, they are a treasure that no one can take away.

The love and care he showed us extended far beyond our immediate family. His service to our grandparents was exceptional, but his support didn’t stop there. He was the person we could turn to in moments of need—whether for advice, encouragement, or simply a moment of quiet solace. His presence was steady and unwavering, like the roots of a mighty tree, providing us with the stability we didn’t even know we needed until it was gone.

As we mourn his loss, we also celebrate the life he lived. Though his voice is silent, the lessons he taught us will continue to guide us, like stars in the darkest night. He showed us the power of optimism, the strength that comes from gentleness, and the grace found in a life lived for others. His example is one we will strive to follow for the rest of our lives. His legacy is one of love, resilience, and quiet strength, and it’s a legacy we are committed to preserving.

“Those we love don’t go away; they walk beside us every day… unseen, unheard, but always near.” These words ring truer than ever as we remember him. We know that he may no longer be physically present, but his spirit will live on in our hearts. His kindness, his wisdom, and his unwavering support will continue to guide us, even though he is no longer here to hold our hands.

Our earliest memories of Hakim baba date back to our childhood when he would bring us balloons, making our eyes light up with joy. His sense of humour was sharp—he was a master of sarcasm, delivering his insights in ways that made us think and smile at the same time. I remember when my younger brother, Tasaduq, was moving out of town. Hakim sahab, the strong, composed man we all looked up to, cried like a baby. His parting words, “Take care, make us proud, study well, and pray for us,” still echo in our hearts.

He was more than just an uncle to us; he was a pillar of our family, a towering presence whose kindness radiated like the sun. His mere presence meant the world to us. He treated everyone equally, with respect and dignity. He spoke with wisdom, and his words carried weight. And if he had nothing of substance to say, he remained silent, pursing his lips, respecting the space of silence where words weren’t necessary.

He was like a banyan tree or a mighty Chinar for our family—his purpose in life was to provide shade, comfort, and protection to anyone who needed it. He was the driving force of our family, the glue that held us all together. With him around, we were more united, stronger, and happier. Now, without him, we feel like we’re on an anchorless ship, lost in a vast, empty sea. The joy we once shared in his presence has been replaced by a quiet, aching void. Some people are too precious for this world, and my uncle was one of them.

“Grief is the price we pay for love,” someone once said. And in this moment, we are paying that price. Dear Hakim baba, your legacy is one of love, sacrifice, and quiet resilience. Though you may no longer walk this earth, your spirit will live on in the hearts of those who knew and loved you. We will miss you every day, but we are forever grateful for the time we had with you. Thank you for teaching us, guiding us, and loving us the way you did. You will live in our hearts, always.

Note: Tasaduq Zamir Khan also contributed to this piece. Author’s are nephews of the deceased