This Ramadhan,
we sit and stare
At that forlorn
and empty chair,
Your place of rest
before that fateful day,
When you were taken,
leaving us in disarray
This year, my husband,
your empty chair
Joins meagre meals
and deep despair.
My head conjuring up
your presence again
Alone in this household
I struggle to maintain
This iftar, Daddy,
I need you in your chair
Growing up, a girl yearns
for her father there.
Bullied and broken,
your advice I long to hear
I’m lost searching for
the love once held so near.
This Ramadhan,
I wish you knew, Abi,
I kept my first fast, called the adhan,
prayed tarawih!
Even this meal with Mama
I helped prepare!
So many things I can’t tell
your empty chair.
This year, my ageing eyes
can barely look, my son.
Will I see you free again
before my life is done?
Within the hollow
of your empty chair,
I raise my frail hands
in ever-desperate prayer.
When we gather for iftar,
this and every year,
Show a family that your love
remains forever near.
Though their cherished father
we can’t replace,
Take a seat at their table,
to help fill his empty place.
Life, as they once knew it, is hollowed out
entirely now the main breadwinner is
in prison.
While the dates at the table promise to be
sweet, the arrival of Ramadan is often
bitterly painful for vulnerable and
isolated families.
As Maghrib descends, families gather
together at the table, yet each nurse their
separate, unspoken traumas inside. Their
plates are half full, but their hearts entirely
empty. Children’s voices crack with
emotion as they call the adhan, longing to
witness their father’s pride at their efforts
this season. Mothers, crippling under
financial strain, slowly stir the pot, worrying
what their husbands are eating.
Elderly parents - already weakened with
age – lose their appetite altogether,
questioning whether they will live to see
another Ramadhan with their beloved sons.
This Ramadhan, it’s not just the food that
doesn’t taste the same, but his vacant place
in the family leaves less to savour.
As we welcome the beloved guest of
Ramadan into our homes, the empty chair
reminds HHUGS families more acutely of
the cherished guest missing at their
iftar table.
This Ramadhan, you can fill not only their empty plates, but the void in their broken hearts.
Take a seat at their iftar table this Ramadhan. Fill the void in their hearts, one table at a time.
Eid gift, or a Ramadhan Gift Box for the whole family (£35)
Unite a separated family this Eid, by enabling a prison-visit
Essential counselling £50 per session
Feed a family for a month £250, or a food pack £50
Connect the isolated with Eid gatherings and family events
Shelter a family with the cost of rent, utilities, and vital repairs
Support a child’s physical and emotional wellbeing
Help a single mother to gain independence through education and training
Relieve a single mother struggling with debts she cannot pay
The best of deeds through
automated giving.
AutoNate your Sadaqah this Ramadhan - whether for all 30 days, every Friday or for the last 10 nights
to Autonate your giving