April 23rd, 2025.

The day my world shifted. The day I lost not only my father—but my anchor, my teacher, my best friend. My Aba. Even now, it feels unreal to speak of him in the past tense. My heart resists it. How can someone so full of life, love, and kindness simply be gone?

Aba was a rare soul—soft in a world that often hardens people. He was kind beyond words, generous beyond measure, and his love knew no boundaries. His gentleness wasn’t weakness; it was strength in its purest form. A quiet, unshakable kind.

No matter where life took us, he remained a constant—our emotional compass. To this day, everyone who met him speaks of his warmth, his empathy, and how he made them feel seen and valued.

He didn’t just raise me—he empowered me. As a girl growing up in Pakistani culture, I got to travel and experience life in ways most girls, and even many men, never do. All because Aba believed I deserved to see the world. He believed in my potential. There were still places left where we had to travel together and discover, Aba.

To the world, Aba was soft-spoken and humble. But to those who knew him deeply, he was also fiercely just. He stood up for what was right—never afraid to challenge what was wrong. He didn’t waste his energy on those who weren’t worth it, but when it came to truth, he never backed down.

To us—his children—he showed only gentleness. He never said no to me. If I even hinted at wanting something, he made sure I had it. Not just things, but his time, his protection, his undivided love.

He often called me naïve. Not in judgment—but out of worry. He knew this world too well, and feared I hadn’t yet seen its cruelty. “I worry for you the most,” he used to say. That worry came from the deepest love a father can hold.

In the last few months, he became more delicate—more thoughtful. Maybe he felt something was coming. Maybe that’s why he held us all a little closer.

He was the youngest among his siblings and cousins, and yet, he left us first. It feels so wrong. So deeply unfair. There’s a void now—one that nothing and no one will ever fill.

He was our lion. He protected us with his strength and loved us with his soul.

Aba, I miss you. Every moment. I see you in every sunset, in every decision I make, in every act of compassion I try to embody. You live in my strength, in my courage, in the parts of me you helped shape.

You were my father, my mentor, my friend—and the greatest blessing of my life.

I love you.

I miss you.

Your legacy lives on in me.

— Your Sehru.

We have a part of you living in all your three children, Aba Saeein. In our hearts, in our choices, in the love we carry forward. And we promise—we plan on making you proud the day we meet again, in the forever realm.

Thank you for giving us such an incredible taste in music, Aba—Pink Floyd, Robbie Williams, Dire Straits, Eagles, Cher, Enigma, Ricky Martin, Schiller, George Michael, Phil Collins, Guns N’ Roses, Ace of Base, Gipsy Kings, Simon & Garfunkel, U2, Chris de Burgh, Scorpions, and Modern Talking. Your music lives on in us, just like your love. I’ll carry your playlist—and you—in my heart forever. I love you so much, Aba.