Walk Back To Me - a story of a mother and her son. A story of loss and the struggle to learn to walk again.

* * *

When I was told that my son had been in a car accident, I wept in fear and grief. When I saw him, for the first time after the accident, my beloved son lying on the hospital bed, staring at his covered legs, I wept in happiness that he was still alive. When I was told he'd never walk again, I wept in sorrow. When he looked up to me, his eyes round and red and told me not to cry, I wept again.

He just watched me, my silent son. He watched me weep and tear my hair and ask Allah for one more chance. And that was when he wept. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and I could see that his eyes were full of shame. I could feel his sorrow, his grief, his pain. I watched his mouth move in apology after apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He moaned, his eyes closed, his mouth quivering.

I didn't know what he was apologizing for. I did know that he was doing things behind my back. Things he hid from me and if he found a reason to hide them from me then I found the reason to be suspicious. He stayed out late, coming home well after midnight, the smell of smoke and drugs clinging to him like he would cling to me when he was young. He spent time with boys who whistled at girls and did drugs, he was changing. 

Day by day, my son was becoming a stranger in front of my eyes. But I would still nag him day and night for I cared about him. I would hover over him and wait for him during the night, much to his resentment and annoyance. I would pester him and remind him to pray. I would badger him endlessly.

But my son went on changing, and I was helpless.

"Mum, they said I'll never walk again." He croaked out, his tears running down his cheeks.

I reached out and wiped them away, and cupped his face in my hand, turning it so he would look at me. His dark brown eyes, his straight nose, his full lips. This was my son. And if he was sad, I was devastated. If his heart was breaking, mine was broken.

"They do not know that, habibi." I said, because I wanted so desperately to believe it. "You will walk again, inshAllah."

He shoved my hand away and buried his face in his arms. 

"I can't feel them. I can't move them. I'll never be able to walk again."

I watched him, my heart shuddering after each word. My ears ringing at each syllable. I watched his and he sat there, no doubt trying to kick his legs, no doubt trying to move them even by an inch. And failing. I hated seeing him so helpless. So weak and broken.

"I will teach you to walk again, Ihsaan." I vowed. "I did it once - I'll do it again.

* * *

"I give up, Mum!" Ihsaan cried, throwing up his arms. 

It had been a month and after desperate physical therapy and long inspirational lectures, I was teaching my son to walk again. He was stubborn and unbearable, so set upon the belief that it was impossible and I sighed as I observed him sitting in his wheelchair, brooding like a tired old man.

"Try again, Ihsaan." I urged, reaching out and holding him up by his arms.

He gave me a grouchy frown but struggled to stand up, while I supported his upper body. His legs trembled for a moment as he put his weight on them, and then gave out, causing him to fall back into his wheelchair. Sweat rolled down his neck, as he sighed in defeat.

"It's no use," he whispered. "I can't do it."

"Ihsaan!" I scolded. "How many time do I have to tell you that if you think you cant do it then you wont be able to!" 

"But its true." He grumbled. "It doesn't matter what I think - I can't do it."

I took a deep breath, anger rising within me. I pushed it down, pummeled it into my gut as I stared at my son and remembered the day he lost the ability to walk. He was out with his friends, probably driving aimlessly around the city and having fun. He didn't see the truck come his way, he told me later on. He was too focused on his phone, he had admitted in shame. 

"You know what I thought when I got the call from the hospital and they told me you were in a car accident?" I asked, and watched as he stiffened.

"I thought you were dead. Or dying. And then I pushed that thought away and told myself you would be alive and fine. I prayed you would be alright. I prayed that you were still breathing and that your heart was till beating." I said.

"And it does matter what you think. Because when I walked into your room, you were alive."

"This is different!" Ihsaan cried.

"How?" I asked, my voice cracking. "How is this any different? If you put your mind to it. If you pray and wish it to be so, then you can do it, Ihsaan. You can walk again."

I was met with silence. I was met with a long, stretched out silence as I watched his face work. Emotions flashed through his face. His fear, his doubt, his hope played in his eyes. I bit my lip and watched, waited, observed. The air was still as if it awaited anxiously along with me.

"You never gave up on me?" Ihsaan asked, and I stepped back in surprise. 

"No." I said, firmly. "Never."

"Why?" He asked, and gave me a quick glance, before he averted his gaze. Shame lingered in his eyes. 

"Because you are my son." I said simply.

"But all those nights when I would be gone. You knew what I was doing. You tried to stop me. You fought with me." He said, pausing. "You cried because of me."

"Not because of you. For you." I said, softly. "I prayed you'd come back. I prayed I'd have my son back."

"Okay." He said, and grasped his wheelchair to push himself up.

I reached out again, and supported his arms, as he struggled on his legs. His knees shook beneath him but he grunted and pushed himself off his wheelchair. For a moment he stood there -  for a moment, he was standing! I held onto him, helping him stand, pushing him forward. His hair brushed against my scarf as I helped him along, urging him to take the first step. 

And he did.

"See." I cried in joy. "You can do it, my Ihsaan. You can walk."

"Y-yes." He replied, his voice taut as he struggled to make the second step. 

I'll always help you." I smiled. "But this time..this time..."

Ihsaan looked up and met my eyes.

"...This time don't walk away from me. This time walk back to me."

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Inspired by a video I saw on Youtube: