Assalamu alaykum my dear sister True Muslim
I enjoy reading your posts very much and some times they are so good that i read them twice. May i ask you though to excuse me for not responding to this post as fast as you expected. I really got held up in other things but this was on my mind too.:a1
Yes life is what you mentioned above. And that is just one if its many aspects, many pages, many leafs. :hlp1 :hlp1
Life means different things at different times for diffeent people. All may be correct, yet all may be wrong too.
While i was taking my time to talk about the meaning of life for me, i was thinking about its many pages and which one of those pages would be the most substantial, significant and memorable for our readers to ponder over. Subhan allah as i was about to write on one incident that happened to me recently, another experience hit me by surprise just tonight and i thought to myself, "This is it". I sat infront of my pc and typed away till dawn.
The answer to the question, you'll find at the end of this heart stopping true story of tonight. Please read it carefully and slowly.
(U)
And she stood like an iceberg looking down at her fifteen-year-old son, saying to him, “You didn’t even say good bye”.
They were eleven boys and a girl. A family of love and care. A family that made the inspirational bond of the Brady bunch look like scattered sultanas. A family that made the heart felt compassion and devotion of “the Waltons” look like a breaking branch and the appealing patience and sacrifice of “little house on the Prairie” look like a common indulgence. This is a family of true love, sacrifice, support, sincerity, bond and patience for one another glued together by the power of true faith in Allah subhanahu wa ta3ala and their obedience to the Quran and sunnah.
A typical day for the mother would include washing, cleaning, cooking, and happily straightening the half fixed beds and tidying the semi tidied rooms the boys had left behind after going to school. There’s no time for much else since between the walks around the house, the mum had infants to feed and toddlers to potty train and rescue from drowning into the washing machine they climbed in to discover.
The father meanwhile would be busy taking the boys to school, doing the grocery and other shopping and all outwardly chores in addition to his paid job. At night the family meet for dinner. Masha’ Allah all 16 wrap around the dinning table serving each other from the feast of food their proud mother had prepared. The live-in grandparents sit at the dinning table to watch the next generation of fruits ripen before them and remember their early years as young parents themselves.
Slowly but surely the boys are growing. The eldest is now a first year university student, the second is fast approaching university and the third Raami was studying hard with private tutors to gain a better score in his year ten school certificate this year. Ramadan arrived and Raami was still stuck in his books in his room studying hard. When he wasn’t studying his parents new very well that, the beautiful recitation of the quran coming from the room up stairs wasn’t a CD. It was Raami practicing to be a reciter of the quran and a preacher of guidance. That’s all he did. That’s all he ever thought about. No girls, no computer games, no sports car magazines, no Friday night’s out. There was no time to waste on this world, and he probably felt it coming all along.
The seventeenth of December 2001 was the day he graduated from year ten and his school certificate mark reflected the hard work he did. The sun couldn’t shine bright enough that day as the family rejoiced Raami’s achievements with hugs and kisses. And on the twenty fourth of December his family were hugging him again. The last hug, the last feel of his flesh, the last look into his closed eyes, the last.
Raami prayed the 3isha’ prayer and went to sleep at midnight in the same bed snuggled with his 4 year old brother by his side. At 1:30am his parents were called to the room by one of the brothers who heard Raami choking and gargling in bed. Paramedics couldn’t revive him at home. His neck was becoming darker as his mother and father looked on helplessly. The choke was increasing. The gargle was tightening and Raami lay with flat limbs and rolled eyes. “Ya mama, :cwt Ya habibi, :cwt Ya Raami. Ya Rabbi dakheelak. :cwt Al-Gawth Ya Allah”, were the only words the frustrated mother could say as she looked at her weakening son dim before her eyes. The ambulance took him to hospital for further rescue attempts. By 2am on 24th (just 26 hrs ago) it was determined that Raami may have suffered a major heart attack, at the age of 15 and a school certificate in his pocket. Ra7imahu Allah.
His mother came home escorted by the many friends and family who had rushed out of their beds to the news. But of course she was alone. Alone in her emptiness. Alone as she ran up the stairs into Raami’s room, threw herself on his bed grabbing his clothes that he hadn’t put away after wearing his PJ’s and while hugging his sweat moistened pillow, she cried and cried and cried with an aakkhhh to catch her breath. “Ya mama, Ya habibi, Ya Raami”. After gaining consciousness from a light faint, she was supported into the car to see her son in his last bath and final change of clothes.
She looked at him in that ice cold room where they wash the dead. Lying on that cold metal panel his face was no longer patched with the blue that chocked him. Raami had a calm pale face as his mother looked at his dark lashes that sealed his green eyes. The eyes she would never see open again. She stroked his wet dark hair and talked to him as if waiting for a very last response. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? You’re gone and you didn’t say a word. But you should’ve at least said something. You left me by surprise ya Mama, why this way? There’s so much we could’ve done. There’s so much waiting. I was making your favourite meal today, roast chicken!! You like that. Ya Raami Ya habibi” and she stroked his forehead. Her tears started to build in her eyelids as she tried desperately to keep them in. One dropped on Raami’s face. She wiped it off and with another sighfull “aaakkkhhh“ she caught her breath realising that her son had spoken for the very last time when he said "goodnight" to her at midnight before he snuggled up with his young brother to sleep. :cwt :cwt
LIFE?
? Nothing but a passage way to the hereafter. A prison for the beleiver-- a paradise for the non-beleiver.What does this reader thinK??:rolleyes:
