Juma'at Mubarak
Hope you all had a beautiful day.

We're at 50🌚

Fahad parked his car a few houses down, there were entirely too many cars and with the people walking to the house, it was hard to find a parking spot. Layla who’d been quiet the whole ride opened the passenger door and climbed down, her maroon hijab flowing after her, she started for the house after nodding at him. He said a few duas under his breath before exiting the car and followed Layla through he’d lost her in the swarm of people, he kept going since he knew where he was headed.

He walked in the chilly air registering how good he found the cold. The sky had been grey since morning showing signs of rain and he liked how the cold penetrated his skin. It had been too hot the past few days.

A lot of people were mingling outside, he had to squeeze his way through to enter the house. Three large mats were sprayed and mostly sympathizers occupied them, he saw Abdulrahman with an older man he didn’t need to be told was Khadijah’s father, they shared a keen resemblance, some of Abdulrahman’s siblings were there with their brother, though they weren’t saying anything, their presence was enough to soothe their brother he noticed.

He greeted the men and shared his deepest condolence, Abdulrahman only nodded in thanks still to overwhelmed to speak, Khadijah’s father was the one that replied and thanked him for being with them in their trying time.

Fahad could’ve sworn the whole world stopped when he saw the coffin being brought outside for the salatul janazah (Janazah prayer), he looked around and saw everyone moving towards the gate, since the prayer was being held there, the house was large but it couldn’t take the people that were in attendance it warmed his heart to see that much people. May Allah rest her soul, he prayed under his breath.

“Are you okay young man?” it took him a few seconds to acknowledge it was him they were referring to. He turned to the man that talked and nodded when he saw it was Khadijah’s father. He nodded at him but he didn’t leave still scrutinizing Fahad, “Are you sure?”

“Yes sir.” He answered though he sounded anything but. He nodded wordlessly and kept walking only then did Fahad realize he’d stopped walking, seeming frozen in place. He forced his limbs to move and they obliged. He commended Sadiya’s strength and Abdulrahman’s too, it wasn’t his child but it was taking all his willpower to not give up and just say, “Take me too, I’m tired of the bloody world” Because he honestly felt that.

It was after the janazah that his world crumbled, this time he was sure he couldn’t pick himself back up even if he tried. Sadiya was heading for the car calling out to her daughter, asking people to let her wake her up. He’d held himself together quite well but he couldn’t handle that.

It reminded him of Jawad, he’d cried out for her too, he’d tried to wake her up, the difference between that and the present was Fahad was awake to see the wailing mother crumble, that last time he’d passed out but this time he was seeing everything and it felt like a replay.

“Allah ya basu hakuri, oh, mutuwan da babban jarabawa ne,” (May Allah give them the fortitude to ear the loss, the loss of a child is indeed a great test.) someone said beside him, he didn’t turn, he found he couldn’t turn, his eyes stayed with Sadiya who was now in the arms of her husband, begging him to save their daughter, to take her back inside that she could wake her up.

He raised his palms to his face only to feel wetness and he was thankful for the hanky he’d kept in his pocket to give to Layla, she’d been crying entirely too much, turned out he needed it more than her.

Death was a test on our imaan but the death of a child, subhanallah, that was something you could never recover from, you may just get used to the void but you wouldn’t get over it. He didn’t pay attention to what the sympathizers were saying rather he searched for one person in the crowd and when he saw her in Layla’s arms, she wasn’t crying no, but she didn’t need to, her empty eyes didn’t need tears to show her pain, the only difference between her and her sister was she was mourning quietly which was worse than thrashing or screaming, Jawad had mourned like that and he’d never recovered.

He shook off the painful thoughts and instead made way to his car, a few men he didn’t know followed suit and they drove off. People, many people, that was what his brain registered, you would think it was an adult of importance in the community that passed, the amount of people calmed him down somehow, she was a child and insha allah she would be one of the children of jannah, the children of prophet Ibrahim AS.

He was praying for Sadiya throughout the drive to the cemetery. He found that he understood her, he didn’t know how she was feeling he couldn’t even imagine that, but he found that somehow he understood the emptiness she must be feeling, he knew that having lost someone at a very young age too but she wasn’t his daughter.

The pain was something you couldn’t explain, you just feel it but you couldn’t comprehend it, it starts from deep within you and you’d wonder, you’d think you were imagining things, you’d force yourself to snap out of it because you didn’t understand what was happening and you’d try to stop it thinking you’ve gotten a hang of it but it wouldn’t stop, it swallows you whole and you find yourself fighting off imaginary hands clawing at you, you find yourself drowning but there’s nothing there, just you and the pain you don’t understand.

An image of Sadiya and Basra in her arms just the night before haunted him, he thanked Allah he had already parked the car.

He thought of how safe she must’ve felt in her mother’s arms because she looked like it when he’d seen her. The arms she’d known even before she knew and understood what comfort was, but she was in better hands now insha allah, besides which hands were more safe than the one who created you.

The grey sky matched the mood of the cemetery, there was always a certain aura in cemeteries that he thought wasn’t entirely melancholic but held a truth that no one could fight, a truth no one could argue, the truth that each and everyone there would be brought someday, and there was just something painfully real about it that knocked the breath out of him.

Farhan stood beside him, he looked at the man that looked no better than the child’s father, they exchanged pleasantries and took all of Fahad’s willpower not to ask why he looked so haggard, mainly because he knew they had similar expressions on their faces, a certain emptiness.

Abdulrahman that had held on quite well shattered and crumbled when he saw the coffin being lowered to the ground, it felt painfully real then, he kept repeating the hadith his father in law had told him the night before, he watched as they covered the grave, what he didn’t expect was the serene feeling he felt when it was done, she was at rest in sha allah, she was at peace.

She didn’t have to take multiple medications anymore, she didn’t have to pricked with needles that she hated more than anything, she was in the best place in sha allah, he knew it would take a little getting used to, but it was not something they couldn’t do. They will pass this test too by Allah’s grace and will.

He accepted more condolences from sympathizers and as they drove back home, he knew they buried a part of his heart with his daughter, and later that day, he was given a gift that couldn’t be compared to anything in the world.

The whole time Fahad felt like it was an out of body experience for him, it all felt new, like it was the first time he’d witnessed a burial. It reminded him of when he was a teenager, the day she was laid to rest, it reminded of Jawad’s parents burial, then dada Aliero, every person he’d been close to that have passed crossed his mind and with every face, the pain felt new, he had to park the car and tried to get his breathing back to normal.

When he stopped panting, he prayed for their souls and prayed for Sadiya and Abdulrahman, for Allah to give them strength, for Jawad who even with everyone around him still felt alone, he prayed for Khadijah and her battles, the fight he saw behind her eyes, the untold pain, he prayed for the world as a whole because he needed to feel like he was helping somehow, and what better way to help than prayer.

Fahad started the ignition when the beat of his heart returned to a steady rhythm, he drove to his apartment in new Kaduna, millennium city. He hadn’t been there since he went to check after the interior designers were done.

The cleaning company visited every week so he knew it would be neat, he drove in and went to the master bedroom, he didn’t bother lifting the blinds liking how it was dark and gloomy, it matched the mood and weather, he didn’t bother changing out of the clothes he’d worn to the funeral even though it was damp, it had started drizzling when they arrived at the cemetery, he wasn’t sure when the rain had stopped or at what point but he knew the roads were dry at some point, though it was still dark and thunder rumbled once in a while.

He turned the AC on and left it on full blast, the weather be damned because he wanted to feel something and if bone chilling cold was what he got then so be it.

He got under the covers and started to drift off when a thought occurred to him, he picked his phone and sent the message so he wouldn’t forget and then went back to bed only to wake up not up to an hour sweaty and struggling to breathe from a dream, nightmare or memory he couldn’t even be sure, but he knew he’d since buried it.

**** **** ****

There were some instances in life that would make us realize we would never really grow up completely, that we’ve never been grown altogether.

Watching Abdulrahman breakdown in his mother’s arms was one of the instances for Khadijah.

She commended him for holding up until then but his mother had arrived from London with his sister that she went to visit, that was when he first shattered, completely being returned to nothing but a small child, he’d felt that in his mother’s arms.

She’d watched him go into his mother’s embrace and that was when she actually saw him cry, the walls he’d built came crumbling down, he let his guard down, everything came off, the strong façade, he’d cried with his head on her bosom letting the pain out, she kept on whispering prayers in his ears before he finally calmed down, she realized that there really were no safe arms like that of your mothers’, the woman who’d birthed you. Her eyes drifted to umma who had been praying with her tasbih since they got to the hospital.

She said a prayer for her mother, she knew there were times she’d felt like the woman wasn’t trying for her, but she’d known she was there and that helped her even if she hadn’t realized at first, she understood that then when she was looking at her brother in law. She remembered feeling her mother’s obscure presence everything night whenever she was admitted in the hospital, at first she thought she was imagining it but when it was there every time she realized and accepted that her mother was always there for her even if she was a bit distant.

When we pray we hand over all our affairs to Allah the most high, the exalted, the almighty and she felt humbled to know that all those times she’d felt completely hopeless and umma was there to hold her was proof that Allah had heard and accepted her silent prayers, she knew then that mothers were the answers to our prayers.

Sadiya was still in the labor room and they weren’t saying anything, they were all more than on edge. It has been two hours and forty seven minutes, and they still haven’t heard anything, she was sure she’s said each and every prayer she’d memorized right from her nursery class in Islamic school up to her graduation but she still couldn’t get her mind to stop reeling with different scenarios that weren’t favorable.

Her phone had been on flight mode since the night before because she knew she would be unable to talk on the phone and because she honestly didn’t want to, the only use she had for it was as a watch.

She started pacing the hallways again, she’d spent the first hour praying in the mosque, then she paced, she stayed and recited some duas then went back to her pacing. She stopped on her step and thought, she was too agitated to do anything productive but there has to be something she could do, there has to be something, she muttered to herself.

Her phone pinged with a notification, at first she didn’t want to check but decided against it, it was a daily reminder from muslim pro, it was an ayat from the holy Qur’an.

“And your lord says ‘call upon me, I will respond to you.” Ghafir 40:60; and she knew exactly what to do.

Khadijah walked to the hospital mosque with deliberate steps, she performed ablution again and entered the mosque, she sat at the back and opened the qur’an app on her phone, she first recited suratul sharh, she read the translation and she felt calm, encouraged she kept reciting to herself until she reached suratul nas, she felt serene after that and was able to take a nap in the mosque.

Baraka was the one that woke her up around asr and told her to go home and rest, she wanted to argue but it died on her lips when she told her she should just take a bath and refresh herself then comeback.

She went back home and took her bath, Layla tagged along and volunteered to drive, they drove in comfortable silence.

She helped her start the bath, insisting she on a bubble bath because it would soothe her muscles more. Khadijah first did ghusl so she could pray before soaking in the tub like Layla suggested and she was right because she felt refreshed when dried herself thirty minutes later.

She wore a plain army green colored down and wore a grey hijab that covered her whole over it.

Layla was sitting on the bed with her phone against her ear indicating she was on the phone, she was also wearing different clothes, her hijab on the bed beside her. She looked up and nodded at Khadijah when she noticed her.

“Won’t you eat? You haven’t eaten since breakfast?” Layla shook her head.

“You’re always worried about me, let me do the worrying now, you didn’t eat anything either, I’ve called dahlia,” she explained seeing Khadijah’s confused look, “Owner of l’arte dei sapori, and she’s sending pounded yam over to the hospital, I know you wouldn’t be able to eat here, and umma needs to eat too.” Khadijah nodded gratefully and Layla stopped her from talking.

“Let’s go.” She nodded and they walked out together.

Sadiya’s children were taken to Baraka’s house on their father’s command, it would be much better to have their cousins around them because even Hanan had been crying when her mother was rushed to the hospital.

Not up to thirty minutes after they returned to the hospital, Sadiya finally delivered her twins, a boy and a girl just a few minutes before maghrib. The families were ecstatic because both mother and children were in good health.

It was a happy moment for the family, though they all felt the loss all over again when they were given the girl, she looked just like the late Basra.

“He looks like you.” Abdulrahman said to Sadiya who was resting against two pillows as umma basically force fed her.

She gave him teary smile, “I told you I would win this time.”

He nodded, touching the girl’s hand, unlike her brother she’d been active since she was handed to him, she would open her eyes and look around like she was registering people’s faces. He put his finger in her hand and she held it tight, he smiled though he was looking at her through tears.

“Will you hold her?” he asked Sadiya who nodded.

“Maybe later,” umma answered for her.

“No, I want to hold her.”

Umma shook her head but didn’t say anything, anytime she gazed at her she would burst into tears and they were worried she would have breakdown.

He took her and gently put her in Sadiya’s ready arms, she took a deep breath before smiling up at him.

Paying no heed to the adults in the room, he crouched and pecked her forehead.

“I love you.” He whispered pulling her against his chest, his arms going around her, he felt her nod against him.

With much difficulty they got the rest of the family to head home and with Dr. Abdulhameed’s help, Abdulrahman’s cousin they got discharged around after ten to eleven. Sadiya had fallen asleep on the drive to the house, it was only Khadijah and Kamla who were holding the twins and Abdulrahman who was driving that left the hospital. There weren’t much things to bring in the first place since the elders mostly left with the rest.

Shaheed had picked Layla up a few minutes before they left the hospital, she wasn’t happy but agreed to go with him with much insistence from Khadijah, also her father had to plead with her to fully agree, he was the main reason Shaheed was in the hospital in the first place.

Khadijah was rocking the baby in the nursery when Sadiya entered, she’d just woken up and was headed downstairs to get a cup of water when she saw the lights on, her sister smiled up at her.

“She’s so beautiful masha Allah,” she said softly not wanting to wake the child up.

Sadiya only nodded, she looked down and saw her eyes closed looking regal in her aunt’s embrace but she didn’t make a move to take her.

“I think it’s a tie though between you and ya Abdul, she certainly picked his side.” She joked stroking the baby hair that escaped the cap, Sadiya’s children always had full hair even from birth and she loved it. She was mesmerized by the tiny creature in her arms she missed her sister’s teary face.

The whimper she heard made her look up, she carefully laid the child in her cradle then walked over and held her sister who was full on sobbing then, they walked down the stairs hand in hand in the dim light.

Khadijah made her sit before taking her hands and forced her to look up at her, “What is wrong ya Sadiya? Please calm down else you’ll have a fever in the morning.”

Sadiya only pulled her in a hug muttering sorry, at first she didn’t understand and tried to get her to stop but she kept on repeating it like she was in a daze.

“Okay, I get it, I’ve forgiven you please just stop.” She said stroking her sister’s back, she didn’t know what she was apologizing for but she needed her to stop crying.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry please forgive me.” She said through tears. Khadijah who was thinking something happened to her tried to control her own tears and at the same tried to get Sadiya to calm down.

“I’m sorry for every time I told you it was going to be alright, for not being there for you, for not understanding, I’m so sorry.” She managed to say through sobs, Khadijah only nodded pulling her into another hug.

“All those times I said I understood I didn’t and I’m so sorry for saying that, I didn’t understand then, I didn’t know,” she sobbed not caring for the snot that was mixing with her tears, Khadijah couldn’t pacify her she knew then, she did the best she could but she couldn’t get her to stop.

“I said I understood, I didn’t, I’m sorry for thinking I did but now I do and I’m so sorry, I feel like I can’t breathe,” she pointed to her neck that felt clogged, her head was throbbing she knew she would have a migraine in the morning but she couldn’t care less, the pain was choking her and she wanted to talk to someone who understood, she needed to talk to someone who’d gone through something like that.

It was then that Khadijah understood what she was talking about and she stopped fighting the tears, letting it wet her sister’s clothes.

“I told you it would be alright I remember and I’m sorry, I don’t think it’ll get better, I close my eyes and I see her, I can still smell her, I still feel her but she’s not there, she won’t be there to wake me up and say she wants milk, she won’t be there to hug me in the night because I’m warm, it won’t be alright.” She let out a heart wrenching sob.

Abdulrahman who woke up to an empty bed stood up confused, he knocked on the bathroom door thinking Sadiya was there but all he heard was silence, he checked the nursery when he heard crying from there, he saw his daughter crying while her brother who was in Kamla’s arms was fast asleep, he tried to pacify her but she didn’t calm down, he went downstairs and the image of the sister’s hugging each other in tears did things to him.

Khadijah was the first to break the hug when she heard the little wails from the infant, she walked up to him and took her from him, she cooed at her walking back up the stairs simultaneously wiping her tearstained cheeks, it didn’t take a much for her to quiet down and go back to sleep.

He sat beside Sadiya with her head resting on his chest, it wasn’t a comfortable position but it was enough for them.

He took a deep breath when he was sure she wasn’t crying anymore, he told her what her father had told him when he arrived at the house.

“The prophet (S.A.W) said when a person’s child dies, Allah says to his angels, ‘you have taken the child of my slave. They say: ‘yes.’ He says: ‘you have taken the apple of his eye.’ They say: ‘yes’ He says: ‘what did my slave say?’ they say: he praised you and said ‘inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’oon(verily to Allah we belong and unto him is our return). Allah says: ‘build for my slave a house in paradise’”

Sadiya nodded through her tears and repeated the prayer, she wasn’t sobbing like earlier, just tears streaming down her face, she felt she’d been crying for nothing and it was then she deserved to shed tears, but not of pain, what he said again made her calm down though she hadn’t stopped crying, but she felt light, she felt peace.

“The daughter of the prophet Muhammad S.A.W sent for him when she lost her child to console her and he said they should go and tell her, “It is His what he has taken, and it is His what he has given, and everything in His possession has a prescribed lifetime, so let her be patient and content (with Allah’s will and reward).”

After a minute he raised her chin so he can look at her eyes, “I’m not saying to not hurt or shed tears, even the prophet had shed tears when his son had died but prayer is better, we might never recover from this, I don’t think we will but remember, Allah the exalted gave her to us and he took her, nothing we could’ve done would have stopped her from going because it was her time, can we question Him?” he stopped long enough for her to shake her head, “The prophet lost all his sons before he died and we’ve only lost one, and Allah gave us two, I wanted to name her Rabi’atul Basra but I didn’t,” she looked up at him surprised, “I didn’t want her to be a replacement, our Basra might be gone from our sights but she is in a better place in sha Allah, in better hands, because whose hands are safer than that of our creator, instead we should thank him for our gift and pray to be reunited with our angel in the gardens of jannah insha Allah.” She nodded and smiled through her tears hugging him tighter to herself.

She wasn’t supposed to heal from that, but knowing her daughter was in a far better place even though she wouldn’t watch her grow, go to school, graduate, have dreams and fulfill those dreams, get married and start her own family, but insha allah they would meet again and they would be together forever insha allah. With those thoughts she drifted off in the arms she hoped would be with her, the hands she hoped would her as they walk through the doors of jannah, when they’ll reunite with their whole family, to be together forever.

••••••••

I wrote this chapter multiple times and I'm still not very satisfied with it but well today was supposed to be the day we finish, that's obviously not happening and I'm not happy with it but life happened.

Anyways, how was it? Be honest please I've been feeling really down about all these and lowkey losing interest in writing, i just feel like I'm doing too much or too small and it's making me feel down.

Please vote comment and share

You'll probably hear from me when Allah wills because.....I don't feel like writing at all, I mean at all.

Writer's block is the worst

Amyrah