Ramadan makes the silence from my father loud

I read the piece about forgiving the parent you have, not the parent you wanted, and it sat with me like a full cup I cannot set down. My father and I have not really spoken in two years. We pass in the same village market, or I see his name in my phone and the call goes to voicemail. Ramadan should be the easiest month to reach across a gap, but instead the taraweeh lights make the silence feel sharper. I am a grandmother of nine here in Harar, I wake before dawn to make tea for the little ones, and every clink in the kitchen makes me think of him. Has anyone else carried this quiet during Ramadan? How did you live with it, or try to bridge it?