Your children are not your children

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, they belong not to you.

"Mum,"Husain set his spoon down gently on his saucer, "I have something I need to tell you."

"Okay." Aamina stirred her coffee, gently allowing all the granules to dissolve.

"I've been complaining about headaches, remember?"

"Uhm hmm." She set her spoon down, giving her son her full attention. She didn't like the fear she saw in his eyes or the trembling of his lips as he tried to gather his words.

"I went to the doctor and he referred me to a specialist."

"And what did he say?" Her voice quivered, unable to gather herself to listen to the answer.

"They found a tumour in my brain." His voice felt dry saying the words and it felt as if he were underwater, trying to shout out for help. His voice felt slow and his mind felt numb as those words escaped his lips. "It's what they call a high grade tumour and I-"He breathed deeply, cutting himself off.

"High grade tumour?"

"I don't know what's going to happen Mum."

"Okay.'She nodded her head, trying to assure herself. "We'll get through it, okay? We'll get through it."

He smiled at her, though his eyes told her that he had already given up the fight and it crushed her.

...

"Do you remember when you used to visit us?" Aamina asked, a sense of nostalgia washing over her as she looked at Tasneem.

"A little."

"Your Dad would always trail water through my house after you came back from the beach. He would make a mess but he would never even bother apologising for it."

Tasneem laughed at the memory. She would always come home dripping wet and her costume would always be filled with sand. Her father would just laugh and carry her up to the bathroom before her mother helped her in the bath and she never once took notice of the mess they left behind.

"That was your father." She sighed, reliving those days in her head. "He had a beautiful heart but he never bothered cleaning up his own messes."

...

"I'm tired Mum." Aamina looked up from her Qur'aan to the sickly figure lying on the hospital bed in front of her.

"Tired of what?"

"I'm just tired." He shrugged, staring up at the ceiling.

"You heard the doctor. Half the battle is in your head." She looked at him, desperation clouding her eyes, begging him to fight for just a little while longer.

"I'm tired of fighting." He looked at her, praying she would understand. "The radiation isn't working. You know that as well as I do. And what's after that? Surgery? More radiation? What?" He sounded angry and frustrated and the more he spoke the worse he felt. "I'm sick of this God damned hospital and these nurses staring at my face the whole day. I'm sick of it."

Aamina left him to speak. The doctors warned her that his emotions might be unstable and that if he got angry, talking might provoke an ever bigger outburst.

"That bitch won't even let me see my own kids. It's her fault I cheated on her in the first place. She's so God damned clingy and possessive. I was stifled. She was suffocating me and she never backed off. Not once." He shook his head, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Bitch."

"Shh."Aamina stood up slowly, her knees creaking in protest. "Don't speak like that. She's the mother of your children. She deserves better than that."

"Don't you tell me what to do!" He cried out, coming close to pushing her away. "Just leave me the hell alone. You'd take that cun-"

"Stop it Husain!" She rebuked him, "I'm your mother. You have respect for me, understand."

"Just go." He looked away from her. He couldn't understand the surge of emotions rushing through him and the more his mother stayed by his side, the worse he felt. "Before I say something more, just go."

She shook her head sadly. She knew it wasn't his fault but it hurt still.

"When I come back, I expect an apology." Her words rang through his head, calming him down instantly but by the time he looked to her to apologise she had already left.

"I'm sorry."

But there was nobody there to listen.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

...

"You won't understand it now and I don't expect you to but I just want you to listen."

"Okay." Tasneem sat straight, waiting for her grandmother to continue but they were interrupted by the sound of a key twisting in the door.

Should she stay sitting?

Should she stand?

What would her grandfather think of her?

What-

"Oh!" Fareed walked into the lunge, confused at the sight of the girl and boy standing before him. "And who might you be?" He asked kindly. He hadn't been expecting any visitors and his wife certainly didn't tell him anything about it.

"Uhm..."Tasneem looked to her grandmother, unsure of what to say really. She had assumed he would have been told.

"Don't worry." Aamina's smile was reassuring as she stood up slowly, walking towards her husband. "I told him but your grandfather's memory isn't what it used to be."

"My memory is perfectly fine." He looked down at his wife, marginally offended at her words.

"You and I both know that's a lie." She patted his arm apologetically. "Did you buy your cigarettes?"

"Yes and Joseph's boy even walked me back. I like him."

"Good." She helped him out of his jacket, placing it carefully on the chairback. "Why don't you have a seat and I'll fetch you a glass of water."

Tasneem and Riaz sat back down, feeling awkward and out of place under the old man's scrutiny.

"So, are you married?" He asked conversationally, uncomfortable amidst the silence.

"Yes." Tasneem replied.

"For how long?"

"A few months now." She replied, looking around the lounge as she waited for his next question.

"Good." Fareed nodded, leaning back in his seat as his wife's soft clicks could be heard from the kitchen.

''Are you a friend of my daughter's?"

"No Sir." Riaz replied politely.

"Oh I see. A friend of my wife's?" He asked, rubbing his knee in slow circles.

"Yes Sir."Tasneem smiled at him uncertainly. "Something like that."

"That's nice." He looked up as he felt Aamina pat his shoulder. "Thank you." He smiled gratefully up at her before she walked around the couch to settle down next to him.

"Fareed, do you remember the conversation I had with you on Monday?"

"What conversation?" He looked at her, sifting through his mind for any recollection.

"About Husain?"

"What's he done now?" He missed the look of pain that shot through her face at his face.

"No, he hasn't done anything but this is his daughter and her husband."

He looked at Tasneem, his eyes wide and his face paled as he really looked at her. "But you're a grown woman. You can't be his daughter."

"I am his daughter, Sir." She smiled sadly at him.

"You were barely 3 the last time I saw you." His voice was filled with absolute wonder at the notion that his granddaughter was all grown up. "How old are you now?"

"I'm 22 years old."

"I'm an old man then if my youngest granddaughter is 22 years old." He joked, gulping back his water quickly. "Where's your father though? It's been a while since I've seen him."

"I'm not really sure." Tasneem didn't know how to answer that question. How could she possibly tell him that his son was already dead.

"You know the answer to that question." Aamina laid her darkened hand over his own. "Try to remember."

...

"Please, let me see them one last time." His voice sounded sad as he spoke to his wife on the phone. "Please, don't let me die without seeing them." He was living in his parent's guest room. He didn't want to be alone in a hospital room when he died. He wanted someone to be there with him.

"Please. I beg you." His voice was rough with tears as he listened to the voice on the other end killing each and every last hope within his heart. "Okay."

Okay.

He placed the phone down gently before turning his face away from his mother's. He didn't want her to look at him with pity shadowing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Husain." She said, kissing his temple softly.

"I'm sorry too."

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

...

Fareed looked down at his lap, trying to remember the details of his son's whereabouts. He could remember vague images and silent voices. He could remember his wife's tears and...

A grave. Digging a hole in the ground and placing a body wrapped in a while cloth inside it.

Dead.

His son was dead.

"Oh." He looked back up at them all, sadness etched onto his face as he looked at Tasneem. "You look just like him."

"I've heard." She didn't know what else to say. She felt guilty that she couldn't muster up even an ounce of sadness at the dark shadow of her father's death plaguing all of them. She didn't feel anything at all and she prayed they would never find out about the deep hole within her heart filled with nothingness.

"Tasneem wants to know why he left them." Aamina spoke softly in her husband's ear. "Do you want to go and lie down while I tell them?"

"Yes, I think I will." He stood up slowly, nodding his head in greeting before his shaky steps led him out of the lounge towards his bedroom. After all these years, he still couldn't handle it.

Aamina watched him walk away, easing herself backwards into her seat. "I've forgotten to ask if you wanted anything to eat. I baked a cake."

Tasneem looked at Riaz, before nodding her acceptance. "Thank you."

"What would you like to drink?" Aamina asked, standing up slowly before guiding them towards the kitchen. Tasneem smiled at the small stool still tucked beneath the table. She would love standing on that stool to help her granny bake her cupcakes and make a mess of everything in the process. But she loved it, regardless. "Oh, you still remember that stool?"

"Ya, I used to need it to reach the top of the table."

"My great-grandchildren use it now."

"How many do you have?" It felt odd asking her about her family. Tasneem knew that it was her own family but she still felt as if she was an outsider. They were all essentially strangers and she didn't see it changing anytime soon.

"I have 7 of them. 3 boys and 4 girls. Maybe you'll meet them one day."

Tasneem smiled, never truly agreeing with her. She didn't really see such an event truly occurring but she couldn't say it out loud.

"Is coffee okay?"

"Ya, that's fine." Tasneem pulled out a chair, grateful to have Riaz sit right beside her. She reached for his hand, grasping it softly below the table.

"Tell me about your brothers while we wait."

Tasneem looked at her, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. "They're okay."

"Are they married?"

She shook her head, desperately trying to change the subject. "What are your great grandchildren's names?"

Aamina let out a puff of laughter. "I call them all poppet. I don't really remember their names." She grinned, opening the lid of the coffee tin. "Will you fetch the kettle for me please?" She looked to Riaz, curious about his silent demeanour. She had almost forgotten he was there at all considering he had spoken no more than 5 words.

She sat down, arranging the milk jug and sugar on the table as she waited for Riaz to return. "You'll pour it yourself, right? I don't know how you drink it."

I don't know anything about you at all.

"Your father died a broken man." Aamina said, looking at Tasneem over the rim of her mug. "When he found out about the tumour, the doctors told him that half of his healing was in his mind but he didn't want to get better. He didn't want to live without you and your brothers in his life."

"He had a tumour?" Tasneem sounded surprised. She had never known how her father had died. Her mother only ever said that he had died and had closed off completely after that so she had never found out.

"A brain tumour." Her grandmother nodded, setting her cup down gently.

Tasneem's cup banged lightly against her saucer. "If he loved us so much and if he couldn't live without us then why the hell did he leave?"

Riaz's eyes widened at her tone. Never had he heard such ire seep through her voice.

"He left. He told me he made a mistake and he had to leave so what did he do?"

"What do you mean he told you he made a mistake?" Aamina looked at her oddly.

"I barely remember my father. I don't even know what he looks like but I remember him coming into my room to tell me that he made a mistake and that he had to leave and that was the last time I had ever seen him again."

Aamina ran her finger along the rim of her cup, truly considering whether to tell Tasneem the truth or not.

"Please." She sounded so young and so sad and desperate in that moment that Aamina's heart broke for her grandchild.

"Your father had an affair before you were born and a son was born a few years later from that relationship."

Riaz almost winced as Tasneem's nails dug into his palm.

"I have a brother?"

"Yes."

"And for how long did that affair last?"

"Your father broke it off a few months after your mother kicked him out."

Tasneem shook her head, standing up in her seat. "It wasn't a mistake. My father knowingly slept with another woman, had a son with her and left us and went to her." Her hands were shaking with pure, unadulterated anger at the man who claimed to have loved her. "It wasn't a mistake. It was a sin against my mother and against me and because of him..."

"Please, just-"

"No I'm sorry..." she cut herself off. She didn't even know what to call her own grandmother. "I'm sorry but I can't. I have to go. I'm so sorry." She neatened her cup and side plate, collecting them together in the same place before she walked away.

"I'm sorry." Riaz said softly, smiling at her apologetically before he followed behind Tasneem.

"No," Aamina sighed, collapsing into her chair, "I'm sorry."

I'm so sorry.

Aamina's tears gushed out from the depths of her heart as her son struggled to breathe. She was there- she was right next to him yet he couldn't see her.

"Where are my kids? I want my kids."

"They're not coming Husain."

"I want my kids!" He cried out, struggling to move but his body was too weak. "I need to see them one last time."

"They're not coming."

"I-" He heaved, his back arching up off the mattress as his eyes closed in pain. "I'm going to die without seeing them." He looked at her, his eyes red and swollen, unable to hide just how broken he really was.

"I'm sorry."

"I love them." He said, his heart clenching in anguish. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."

She could only nod, unable to talk for fear of breaking down once again.

"If you see them, tell them that I love them. Please make them believe that I love them."

"Okay."

"No, promise me Mum." He grabbed onto her hand, begging her to accept.

"I promise." She leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"Thank you." He lied back down, a relieved calm taking over his entire being as he closed his eyes.

He could die now.

He could die.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

A/N The poem used in this chapter is called Children by Khalil Gibran.