(But couldn’t save her own)
“Verily, we belong to Allah and to Him we shall return”
I couldn’t get myself to write after you passed away.
I spent days and nights awake, crying; wondering if it was allowed for me to mourn your sudden death. I felt guilty, so damn guilty with every tear that came out of my eyes, you taught me how to be happy. It felt as if I was destroying your legacy. That I was ruining what you did for me, even when I knew you could not do it ever again.
You were the reason I got my life and light back, Allah chose you for that purpose. How could I be so selfish and needy in my humanness that I let you become the reason for my grief?
The first few days I kept calling your phone. Hoping every single time that it was some sort of huge misunderstanding, heck, even a stupid prank- anything but the truth!
I looked everywhere for answers, but found none. No one and nothing could tell me why it had to happen. Why did you have to save my life and lose your own? What was the purpose of the briefness of our acquaintance or friendship or love? Why did you touch my life when you had to be taken away?
For the first time in my life, I shut myself in. I hid, like a coward. Pretended to be okay. I acted like there was nothing wrong at all. I didn’t let anyone, not even my own self see my pain. I made the pain grey in hopes that the colours of the world will overpower it and it’ll just fade away. But that’s not what happened.
What happened was far worse.
In numbing myself towards the pain, I ended up being numb towards everything else too. The grey didn’t fade away it took over all else and suddenly the moon, stars and the laughter of little kids could not make me feel anything. The love I had in my life, of all kinds, stopped making sense, stopped feeling real. It was a downward spiral into nothingness and I had begun falling.
But then, as always, Allah found a way to get me back. One conversation, one best friend, a few hours and the walls just came crashing down. My heart was cut open again, bare and bleeding.
I missed you.
I loved you.
You were gone. And it hurt like hell.
But that was okay.
I found my answer. Why did you touch my life when you had to be taken away? Because verily, we belong to Allah and to Him we shall return. You were never mine to begin with. Allah didn’t take you away, Allah gave you to me. For whatever amount of time, just before He called you back to Him, He chose to let me know you. So basically, you weren’t my pain, Allah made you my blessing.
So you see, the focus has entirely changed and I’m finally happy again. I know if you could see me now you’d be so proud. And that’s when I miss you most- when I achieve something. I have become so much more beautiful than I ever dreamed of and I wish I had a way to thank you for that; but I know Allah must be taking care of that in your grave. I hope He gives you the highest spot in Jannah. Ameen.
But just between the two of us, I believe you’re still watching somehow. I hope you’re as proud of me as I am of myself. You should be proud of yourself too. Not many people around me even know you because they never even looked deep enough to know I was sick in the first place. And every time I laugh or do good or feel like the universe loves me I wish I could scream it out loud that you’re the reason I achieved this. I cannot talk about you now, because I cannot talk about my sickness.
But someday, I’ll make sure the whole world knows your name. I kept your business card and your last display picture on whatsapp.
And I will remember never to.