The trees are swaying, with leaves rustling. The air is fresh and cool; a wisp of tingling sensation running down the spine. I love the smell of fresh-cut grass and the energy created by the powerful effects of pleasant weather in Britain. The clear crisp air somehow allows you to snap out of your dream to realise that you are indeed living in the world today.
I was awoken from my deep slumber. Today I suddenly realised that this is for real. No, I have never been in denial, neither have I been angry nor have I antagonised the demise of my beloved. I have always known that he is gone, forever... (despite the memories that haunt me, and the dreams I still have of him: coming to just lie beside me in bed, both of us just smiling and looking deep into each other's eyes).
Nonetheless, today when I paid my zakat fitrah for the first time in my entire life - the fact hit me hard. I am now the leader of the pack, the sole parent, the closest human to my four off-springs. Such a responsibility lies on my shoulders, symbolically portrayed through the act of paying the zakat for each of my dependents. Oh, Cayang, I now have to do all this on my own... I know I can, with His guidance and power, but I feel I'm left to dwindle almost so hopelessly...
Then, later tonight, as I cleared up the living room, the term 'single-parent' hit me straight in the face - the second time today. Gee, now I am just like that makcik who has been raising her two daughters single-handedly ever since her husband passed away, when she was carrying her second child. Or, just like my neighbour from across the street, who's been divorced since her little girl was in kindergarten. In fact, my position is almost exactly like what I see in movies (or dramas and cerekaramas) or read in novels - of how widows and divorcees struggle to bring up their children single-handedly. They work extra hours, and they crack their whips, just so that their children are not deprived of the wonders of the world. Today, I am on the other side. I am that woman.
Subhanallah and Alhamdulillah. I thank the Lord for the rezki He has showered us with. However, I can't help feeling a wee bit sorry for my children; that their lives today are no longer the same as yesterday. I thought that I could offer them a more 'perfect' family than what I had before but who would guess that my beloved would go so soon? Ergo, I succumb to the divine will, because although feint, the best must be etched somewhere out there for each of us - by Him. They will InsyaAllah grow up tough, 100 times tougher than their Mommy.
It's almost a year now... (how time flies). This time last year, he had given a friend some money to pay for our zakat. This time last year, I still had a husband to whom I smiled to and held hands with. This time last year, we were still a family: a father, a mother and four children. That is how fast Allah can take what He has given. All for the best and all because He loves us.
Wakey, wakey! He is now only a memory in our minds - of a very loving and caring man who was my best friend and leader of the family.
My dearest children, you are the amanah Allah has bestowed onto me. With the barakah of this holy month, I pray that I will be a better Muslimah so that I can be a good mother to you all. It doesn't matter how difficult things are, or how different we are from others because as long as we have each other, then God-willing, we will always be alright.