Some People Leave, But Their Memories Stay

I thought time would make things easier.

People say that eventually you stop missing someone, that one day their memories no longer hurt. Maybe that’s true, but I haven’t reached that point yet.

It’s been months since she got married in January, and I still think about her almost every day.

During the day, I keep myself busy with work and life. I talk to people, laugh, and pretend everything is normal. But nights are different.

When everything becomes quiet, I miss her the most.

Sometimes I lie awake remembering our conversations, the little things she used to tell me, and how happy I felt whenever I saw her name on my phone. There are nights when I cry, wondering how someone who was such a big part of my life for four years could suddenly become a stranger.

And I still wonder how she’s doing.

Is she happy? Is she taking care of herself? Does her husband treat her with love and respect?

I remember her once telling me that he had been verbally abusive toward her during a phone call before their marriage. I don’t know what their relationship is like today, but that memory sometimes worries me. I genuinely pray that he treats her kindly and that she feels loved, respected, and safe.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s expecting a baby now, or perhaps already has one. She got married in January, and so much could have changed since then.

It’s strange knowing that someone whose smallest problems once mattered so much to me could now be experiencing the biggest moments of her life, and I wouldn’t even know.

I also wonder about her dreams.

She was passionate about epidemiology and public health. I remember how she used to talk about her career and how much she wanted to become a lecturer someday.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s working in epidemiology now. Did she finally become a lecturer? Is she teaching students and doing something she loves? Did life take her somewhere completely different?

I genuinely hope she’s achieving everything she once dreamed of.

I wonder how her family is doing, too. I still remember the things she shared with me about them, the difficulties they faced, and the people she cared about.

I pray for her deceased parents. May Allah forgive them, grant them the highest place in Jannah, and give her heart peace whenever she misses them. Ameen.

And sometimes, the smallest memories come back.

I wonder if she still recites Naats.

I remember that part of her so clearly. Does she still find the same peace and happiness in reciting them? Does she still have that beautiful connection with something that meant so much to her?

These might seem like ordinary things, but when you’ve loved someone for years, even their smallest habits stay with you.

And then comes the question I wish I could stop asking myself.

Does she ever think about me?

Not necessarily with love or regret. Just sometimes.

Does something ever remind her of me? Does she remember our late-night conversations, the prayers, the support, and the future we once talked about?

Get Abdul’s stories in your inbox

Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.

Remember me for faster sign in

Or have I become someone she has completely forgotten?

I know she’s married now. I respect her life and her marriage, and I would never want to disturb her happiness.

But sometimes I wish I knew whether those four years meant something to her too.

Because they meant so much to me.

What hurts isn’t just losing her. It’s losing the future I imagined with her. The home, the marriage, the ordinary days together, and all those little moments I thought we would experience someday.

I genuinely believed I would spend my life with her.

Even after everything, I don’t hate her.

I still pray for her, almost every day. I ask Allah to protect her, bless her marriage, give her good health, fulfill her dreams, and keep her away from every kind of pain.

Sometimes I realize I’m still praying for the happiness of someone whose absence is one of the reasons I’m hurting.

And perhaps that’s the part I struggle to understand myself.

I’m trying to move forward. I have my own dreams, responsibilities, and plans for the future. I want to build a better life, get married someday, and have a peaceful home of my own.

But I would be lying if I said I’ve completely moved on.

Some days I’m fine. Other days, a random memory is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Sometimes I wonder why it’s still so difficult to let go.

Maybe because my intentions were always sincere. I never wanted something temporary. I wanted to marry her, grow old with her, and be there through whatever life brought our way.

I wish things had ended differently. Not necessarily that she had chosen me, but that she had been honest with me before I spent so many years believing we had a future together.

Still, I don’t regret loving her sincerely.

If she ever reads this, I hope she knows I’m not writing to make her feel guilty or to interfere with her life.

I don’t expect her to come back. I don’t even expect an answer.

I just sometimes wish she knew that somewhere, someone still remembers her in his prayers.

Maybe one day I’ll stop crying over these memories. Maybe one day I’ll find someone who chooses me with the same certainty with which I choose her.

And maybe one day, thinking about her will bring a gentle smile instead of sadness.

Until then, I pray Allah gives her a beautiful life with her husband, blesses her with a loving family, and grants her everything she has ever wished for.

And somewhere in those prayers, I ask Allah to heal my heart too.

Because I still miss her. More than I wish I did.

I hope she’s happy. And I hope someday, I will be too.

////Fary Hussain////
Faryal Hussain — Epidemiologist — Louisville — Healthcare Data Analyst