Pausing again

I woke up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of  rain, falling in soft susurration.  Slowly, I stepped to the window, peeking to confirm that it was showering by looking at the light shining from the street lamp.  The refreshing and ever-familiar smell of rain reaffirmed that it was indeed raining.  MasyaAllah!

I smiled and spent a few minutes gazing into the darkness.  All my worries and concerns were absorbed into the refreshing night.  Quickly, I hurried to take my ablution, and then, to meet my soul Creator, the Most Generous, Most Forgiving and Most Exalted.  

And so I reflected.

Every year, I fall into the delusion that that particular year was the most challenging in bringing up the children.  Last year, for instance, was an indescribable year: physically, financially, mentally and emotionally trying.  This year, however, is a different episode as the twins go off to university, after Little D settled in his school just like my Princess.  The nest will soon be empty! 

Interestingly, year in, year out, Allah tests me and I still fail miserably.  The reaction, upon every single trial, is often of concern and worry.  The realistic, logical and scientific me still think a + b = c.  All theories and lessons learnt regarding the concept of Tawakkul is often forgotten.  

Thus,  moments such as this, where I get to let go and entrust Him with the whole predicament, are most invaluable.  Imagine, the only way for Him to get my attention, a little bit of my time and a wee bit more submission is when He tests me.  Utterly shameful and revolting. 

Despite all these, I know I hold that special position within Him because He never ever fails to grant my du'aas. Every single one of them.   

Recently, when I shared my current worries with my very good spiritual friend who I consider among the biggest blessing Allah has granted me, she cautioned me not to worry.  Nonchalantly, I responded by laughing out loud and exclaimed, "Don't worry? How is that possible?"

She then said something which pierced right through my guts, "Because Allah swt is taking care of you."

Silence.



Allahu-Akbar.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and I knew that she was right.  Forgive me, my Lord.

"O my Lord! let my entry be by the Gate of Truth and Honor and likewise my exit by the Gate of Truth and Honor; and grant me from Thy Presence an authority to aid (me)."
Surah Isra (17) verse 80.

Shhh...

Too cool? Too submissive? Too laid back? Too confident?

I don't know. My way of tackling problems is by bottling my emotions up and trying to deal with the situation the best I can. I trust in the Almighty and it's not that I'm not trying.

However, it has proven that when I talk to others, I'm made to realise that my problem is actually huge.

Time for some drastic actions now. Shhh... I've got my thinking hat on and my praying mat out. May Allah help me wriggle out of this in one piece.

A miracle?

No, it's Allah's grace...

Imagine being diagnosed with a rare type of cancer (malt lymphoma - which is NOT the usual lymphoma that has good records of recovery) at Stage 4 (1 being the beginning, and 4 the extreme, but 'advanced', like my late husband, being ... the ultimate I guess). How they determine the stage is according to the amount of area the cancer cells have spread to (doctors can correct me if I'm wrong here). My sis was at Stage 4 because it had gone into the blood, and also into the bone marrow. After approximately 5-6 months of treatment; ie. 6 cycles of chemo, bottles of Xanco (mangosteen skin juice), gallons of zam zam water (thanks to friends and relatives) which has been read with quranic verses by a Hafeez, Vitamin B17 in the form of apricot kernels, Cactus juice, RO water, habbatussauda' (black seed) and perhaps numerous more variations of medication or supplication, results of the tests indicate that she is actually free for cancer for now.

Physically, my sister is a petite woman with a clean and pure heart. Perhaps she has typical characteristics of a first child: picky with food and not extremely adventurous with it either. It is indeed a big turndown for Kak Long to be told that sugar activates the cancer cells when Kak Long is a sweet tooth!! So this darling sister of mine had to shield off and sacrifice so many items on the foodlist (of course the hospital dietician's list only specified raw food/fruit/vegetables, and food that has been exposed to the open air as things to avoid). I don't recall which specific expert's advice we followed, but I think MANY people advised her to stop eating: meat, dairy products, sugar (carbohydrates included of course), and salt, among others.

It created a lot of commotion, in actual fact. Many fussed, argued and debated over what should and should not be eaten. She got lectures from people who, undoubtedly, meant well. For me it was simple. If my sister could avoid the food, then by all means she should. But if she craved for them or couldn't consume anything else (since she had always been a wee bit picky), then just let her have whatever is halal and edible for her. Most importantly, she needed the energy to recover and regain her strength, especially prior to a chemo session she had to undergo. Everything else is and was in Allah's hands. Whatever medication she took would only heal with Allah's permission.

The total surrender to the Almighty especially in situations such as this is essential. I believe that going back to basics and what Rasulullah practised and used, is vital. The Holy Quran has many advantages and blessings; reading it (every letter, every word, verse, surah) correctly, understanding the meaning and of course the ultimate of all ultimates is applying the content to our daily lives!

Now that we're given a second chance, it'll only go to waste if we don't grab the opportunity... He loves us, doesn't He? :)

ps: I gave Kak Long every single quranic verse my late husband read during his last 3-4 months (even before being diagnosed with cancer). Raden Galoh has put up all the verses and chapters of the Quran that has been recommended to her on her blog, which a dear silent reader has compiled on pdf format. If anyone is interested in the pdf format(I have distributed to friends and family already), do leave your email address in the comment section.

Praises to the Almighty

When I opened my front door this morning, I was greeted with the sight of thick fog. The frosty morning with wet and slippery ground, however, did not dampen my spirits. My face was lit up in the brightest of all smiles as I cheerfully skipped across the road, holding 4 bags in one hand (Little D's lunch, reading bag, PE kit and lastly, a carrier bag filled with empty boxes to make instruments), and Little D's hand in the other. We were slightly later than usual but I didn't mind. For it seemed as if the world had frozen for us, allowing us to catch up with the hustle and bustle of the world's goings-on.

Minutes earlier, I had received a texted message from my second sister who resides in Kuching, informing me the results of our elder sister's PET scan and bone marrow tests. Alhamdulillah, praise the Lord Almighty, the results indicate that the affected parts are now cleared. She is free from cancer for now.

I was overjoyed. I was almost done with the children's breakfast and had already packed off their lunches neatly in their bags. Hence, I rushed to pick up the telephone and dialled my brother-in-law's number.

Kak Long sounded composed and humbled when I spoke to her. I knew that words would probably not be able to do justice in describing my sister's feelings. She was filled with gratitudes to the Almighty, feeling relieved as well as thankful to everyone who has supported her and prayed for her. It is all a test, I remind her. She has been blessed and given a second chance. Truly, only the line from my favourite surah of the Quran, Ar-Rahman, verse 13 came to mind: Which is it, of the favours of your Lord, that you deny?

In early June last year, my sister was diagnosed with 4th stage malt lymphoma. The beginning was actually this post and then followed by many more afterwards. When I accompanied her to the hospital, I did corner the doctor and tried to get her to give me the prognosis of my sister's situation. I guess, being the professional that she was, she said she couldn't give me one as malt lymphoma was not something very common. She simply said that the chance of survival was an honest 50-50%, and that even after my sister's 6 - 7 cycles of chemo, the chances of it recurring would still be high.

Looking back, I realise now that returning home last summer was perhaps one of the most wonderful thing that happened to us in 2008. It has taught me the meaning of relationships: with the Almighty, with family, with relatives, with friends, and with everyone we love or hate. In a relatively short period of time, I have learnt about the greatest hikmah, or advantage, of a disease called cancer. Although the deadly and eerie word can send shivers down one's spine, in actual truth it is a gift by the Almighty: a reminder that death may be so near, yet still a mystery (the actual date).

My late husband had the warning a month prior to his death. Some people get a decade. It all depends on each individual's rezqi. It is an opportunity that should be grabbed to reflect on life, to repent and to prepare facing the days ahead. Books such as Facing Death (mentioned here) and The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch are written by cancer patients that make us think of preparations in the last days of our lives. Reading Raden Galoh's blog and the other cancer patients listed on her blogroll, as well as meeting this very charismatic woman (even brought her to meet my Kak Long) definitely helped me understand a little bit more about the journey of a cancer patient.

Allahu Akbar!

It is only Wednesday, and I have already been blessed with several good news this week (still awaiting for more good news!). This is the rhythm of life - sometimes melodious, and sometimes in need of some tuning. For now, what more can I say other than Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah...

Thank you friends, for praying for my sister's health and for our well-being. May Allah bless you all and place you in Jannah, InsyaAllah...

Pre-Maal Hijrah: A spiritual revelation of a reflection (yet again)

(work of Noraini, taken from norainigallery.blogspot.com)

Beautifully embroidered or artistically painted ayahs from surah At-talaq (verses 2 and 3) in frames is a common sight on walls of shops (my butcher has it on his wall!), offices and homes of

Muslims. To the Malays, it is also known as Ayat Seribu Dinar, literally translated: Ayah of A Thousand Dinar, i.e. ayahs which promises you a wealth of rezq.

the ayah engraved on a pendant


In actual fact, the ayah is best used to decorate our hearts and souls, instead of just our walls. I don't see any harm putting it up for decoration, just like there are charts and tables in the classroom walls - for us to read the ayah in ease (provided that we do read them whole-heartedly), and be reminded of the meaning (for people like me who doesn't speak Arabic, but understands a little):

And for those who fear Allah, He prepares a way out.

And He provides for him from where he does not reckon. And whoever puts trust in Allah, so Allah is sufficient for him. Surely Allah will accomplish His purpose. And Allah has set a measure for all things.

From Tafsir Ibn Kathir, here, the end part of verse 2 and the whole of verse 3 surah At-talaq simply means:
Whoever has Taqwa of Allah in what He has commanded and avoids what He has forbidden, then Allah will make a way out for him from every difficulty and will provide for him from resources he never anticipated or thought about... Allah will execute His decisions and judgement that He made for him, in whatever way He wills and chooses

*****

At times of difficulty, sometimes the heart aches and the mind is boggled. Yet, the only thing that keeps me in control and sane is the faith in the Almighty. After decades, only now do I understand what my ustazah and ustaz were talking and preaching about; after the numerous notes I scribbled on vertically folded foolscap paper of the definitions of the main essence of Ad-deen, and the loads of lectures I attended or heard over the radio or TV while nodding vigorously. Only now do they each fall into place! Praise the Lord!

If the Deen is the ultimate way of life so perfect and flawless, then the three aspects that fall under it should be embraced to the fullest. Whilst Islam is expressed through the 5 pillars, Imaan is the submission of oneself to the Almighty, believing in His greatness in everything. Ihsan, on the other hand, is worshipping Allah as if we can see Him, and although we may not, He can certainly see us, His humble servants. These are gnostic knowledge that charms the blessed soul.

The lessons I have learnt in my life for the past year are things that I bring along with me through my journey towards the Hereafter. They were not encounters that should be marked and filed in my database, lest I nonchalantly breeze through the next episodes of my life chanting the cliche, "Life goes on..." The wonderful people I met, the vast opportunities He gave, the bitter moments I tasted, the pits I fell into, and the turmoil of emotions I succumbed to, are life experiences that are valuable but left out from my CV.

On this trying journey, I find myself trudging along the lonely path - often shouting HELP to deaf ears that I'm thinking whether it is I who have gone mute? To Him I surrender, and to Him do I trust. And here, I am reflecting and repenting to Him for all the sins done... Alhamdulillah, He has chosen to test me again and again, and I will continue being tested. His glory and wisdom proves that He wishes not to see me being carried away by the comfort of worldly contentment. I know. And I am blessed with feelings of redha.

I marvel at how much truth has been unravelled, that He loves me endlessly by never giving up on me and allowing me more than a mere second chance. :)

PS: Although this entry may sound melancholic, I am in a very peaceful and calm state, Alhamdulillah.

Hajj

The longing and yearning to perform my Hajj has somehow deepened throughout these few years. I remember telling the late Mr D how much I could 'feel' myself being pushed and crushed in between millions of pilgrims in the Holy Land, yet in the midst of it, be filled with the feelings of tranquility so unimaginable. We had both prayed that we'd be His guests soon, and today, alone I continue the prayers for a quest to be closer to Him.

Since Eidul Adha is just around the corner, I found myself catching up on readings concerning Hajj, to share with the children I teach at the Saturday School. Thus, in between my daily obligations, I squeezed some time to do a little research and compile a simple yet comprehensive structure for the children to understand. In doing so, I became absorbed in the significance of each act, with only tears indicating that the heart understood. It was certainly not the first time I read about Prophet Muhammad, Ibrahim or Ismail, or the incidents behind each act during Hajj. Yet the impact is different this time around.

Somehow, the story of Hajar being left by her husband, Prophet Ibrahim, in a desert with her infant, Ismail, stirred my emotions. It was a test of faith and it tugged hard at my heart to think of the perseverence and will-power Hajar had - in search of water for her hungry son. Would you climb up a hill, and then walk approximately 450metres towards another hill, and then continue pacing the SAME ROUTE for a total of seven times?

Subhanallah... Isn't she a personality so admirable? She wasn't upset for being 'abandoned' by her husband in a desert, compared to us who would be filled with rage and anger for being stood up by a friend or made to patiently wait for a delayed meeting to start. Hajar accepted the divine will and submitted herself to the Almighty without feelings of resentment, regret, or failure. And today, everyone is made to remember and ponder over this historical event when performing the sa'ie during Umrah or Hajj. But do we feel the connection?

Thus, let's continue our journey to be closer to him, calling out,

" Here I am at Thy service O Lord, here I am. Here I am at Thy service, and Thou hast no partners. Thine alone is All Praise and All Bounty, and Thine alone is The Sovereignty. Thou hast no partners. "

Just as I am typing this out, the millions of pilgrims in the simplest form of clothes are all gathered in Arafah; leaving their family, work, and worldly possessions behind. Their ultimate goal is only to surrender and submit to Allah, and to beg for forgiveness. I wept while trying to imagine how it must have felt when Prophet Muhammad gathered the Muslim folks in the year 10th Hijriah and gave his sermon in Arafah containing the last verse of the Quran. Suddenly, my feelings for this great man, the Prophet, became indescribable.

So, wukuf in Arafah is symbolic on its own - the place where Adam and Eve were reconciled upon their arrival on earth. It is also a reminder of the great day of resurrection in Mahsyar where all will come only in their birthday suits but InsyaAllah equipped with their good deeds. Would I be equipped? Thus, back to the acts of Hajj, after wukuf in Arafah, if Allah permits, each will leave Arafah with ALL his sins forgiven. Isn't He just?

Hence, do you now see how much I long to perform my Hajj? I sooooo want to wash my sins away and build up my Imaan for the remainder of my life. I hope nobody will laugh if they heard my children talk about when mommy is going for her Hajj. They know how badly I want to go as I have been preparing them with the idea that when mummy goes for her Hajj, they won't be able to follow. *Giggle*

To all Muslims, Happy Eid! Have you thought about what you're sacrificing this year?

Allah's Amanah (Part 2)

This morning, just as I had completed my Dhuha prayers (a beautiful prayer I'd like to share with you later), Little D came to lie down on my lap. He had just gotten up (we went to watch Wall-E last night - I had to do something to cheer those rather gloomy-looking kids). I ran my fingers through his hair, and kissed him. He lay there fiddling with the corners of the pillow, while I read the Yaasin.

Upon completing the reading of the Yaasin, Little D hugged me tight. It was a common gesture, so I returned the hug. Then, I saw tears welling in his eyes.

Darling, why are you crying? Why are you sad?

He scrunched his face, a pout formed and tears escaped down his cheeks. He shrugged.

Are you sad, Peanut?

Yes, he squeeked.

Why, darling? Tell me.

More tears poured down. I couldn't help feeling my emotions being tugged and it wasn't long that I too had tears streaming down the cheek.

What's wrong, darling? What's bothering you? What do you want? Do you miss someone? Do you want to go to the toilet? Do you have a tummy ache? Are you hungry? And I listed all the possible things that came to mind. He shook his head to all that I said.

He remained silent.

So, all I could do was to hold him tight, close to my heart. I embraced him in my arms, and we sat there, having a quiet moment together.

Little D's like that - very sensitive and emotional (much more than you-know-who). With him, I too have to be more sensitive and I need to gather all the knowledge I've got from readings and personal tips to just give him that comforting arm.

I still don't know what upset him, or what went in his mind, but I did lift both my hands up and prayed that the Almighty will ease his fears and discomfort, and perhaps some feelings of instability.

*****
As I mentioned earlier about Solat Dhuha, I have a confession that I have only started performing this prayers since some months back. Using the du'a written in one of the books I have, the wordings always touches my soul and like tapwater, tears would flow continuously. It makes me realise how weak I was as a human being. Nothing to beat His greatness.

I can't type the Arabic version of the du'a and can't find it on the net. So, hope this is better than nothing:

ALLAHUMMA INNADH DHUHA-A DHUHA-UKA, WAL BAHAA-A BAHAA-UKA, WAL JAMAALA JAMAALUKA, WAL QUWWATA QUWWATUKA, WAL QUDRATA QUDRATUKA, WAL ISHMATA ISHMATUKA. ALLAHUMA INKAANA RIZQI FIS SAMMA-I FA ANZILHU, WA INKAANA FIL ARDHI FA-AKHRIJHU, WA INKAANA MU’ASARAN FAYASSIRHU, WAINKAANA HARAAMAN FATHAHHIRHU, WA INKAANA BA’IDAN FA QARIBHU, BIHAQQIDUHAA-IKA WA BAHAAIKA, WA JAMAALIKA WA QUWWATIKA WA QUDRATIKA, AATINI MAA ATAITA ‘IBADIKASH SHALIHIN.

The Malay translation would be:

“Wahai Tuhanku, sesungguhnya waktu dhuha adalah waktu dhuha-Mu, keagungan adalah keagunan-Mu, keindahan adalah keindahan-Mu, kekuatan adalah kekuatan-Mu, penjagaan adalah penjagaan-Mu, Wahai Tuhanku, apabila rezekiku berada di atas langit maka turunkanlah, apabila berada di dalam bumi maka keluarkanlah, apabila sukar mudahkanlah, apabila haram sucikanlah, apabila jauh dekatkanlah dengan kebenaran dhuha-Mu, kekuasaan-Mu (Wahai Tuhanku), datangkanlah padaku apa yang Engkau datangkan kepada hamba-hambaMu yang soleh”.

Read it from the heart, and InsyaAllah, you will be able to feel the beauty of the prayers. It's just something I am sharing with the more knowledgeable out there, i.e: you. But indeed, it has the power to give me the peace of mind and soul, lifting any worries concerning financial limitations or concerns, especially in bringing up the four children single-handedly.

Love is...

Minci posted an entry sharing some kids' definition of love.

I can't agree more with the last one on the list:

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget” - Jessica - age 8

People forget? They forget that they love another? Well, love needs to be refreshed and always be kept alive. For some people, it isn't easy saying those words (especially with our parents, perhaps) but I think with the new generation, we're better at expressing our emotions. For couples, it should be said out loud - from the beginning of the relationship right to the end. I did.

Action speaks louder than words, indeed that's true. But saying the words out loud strengthens our belief and hopes.

Little D is the one who says 'I love you' the most to me now. He kisses me and hugs me, and gives me his charming smile. And it makes me feel good. So, I've been trying to say it more often with the older ones (though the twins are rather shy...). I think it has an amazing effect too. Love is contagious, isn't it?

Do you feel love? Loving and being loved is the best gift from the Almighty. And the love for Him should precede anything else.

Countdown...

I'm going home for an early summer break because tickets are just so costly if I wait until July. What more, there's the availability of seats to consider. Hence, will be leaving the UK on the 17th of June, and returning on the 2nd of September, InsyaAllah. I am going home not only to meet family and friends but also to settle many other matters.

My sister is not in pain (except for the limp she's had for some time now). She has not started her chemotheraphy, if she decides to go ahead with it. She only got the results on Tuesday - 3rd June. I'm sorry if I didn't explain enough about what malt lymphoma is. It's a type of cancer. You can read here for a little bit of information. It's really low-grade (slow-growing), and let's pray that hers will not change or transform into high-grade. I'm not sure whether hers has transformed because she's now at stage 4. Regardless what, I have no doubt that Allah decides the best for us. Always.

When I informed Kak Long I was going home, she was overjoyed! The kids are all excited and Abang H has already taken his luggage out. Initially, Abang Z was a little concerned about missing school, but when I told him the confirmed date, his response was: Owwwhhh... can't we go sooner? (These kids never fail to amuse me!!)

Abang Z is also concerned about his quran reading - he had already planned out how many pages to read in a day (to finish by year-end), hence the thought of all the time 'wasted' travelling, has made him a little anxious. Gosh, this son of mine is quite a serious young man! I assured him that we'd have time back home and will make sure that we make some time for this important activity of reading the quran every day. How is it always so easy to make time for various sorts of activities in a day, but so difficult to make it a point that we read a page (minimum) of the quran daily?

I'm a bit calmer today and I hope to be able to stay calm always. Allah helps us out. When we seek His help, He will help us.

Lessons of Life - Part Two: 'Iddah

Since I've only got approximately one week left of mourning ('Iddah), I think it is apt to write a little about my journey throughout the period of confinement: 4 months and 10 days.

Please note that the period of my confinement, due to the lost of a husband through death, is 4 months and 10 days, unlike those who have undergone divorce: 3 months or 3 cycles of menses.

Spend a moment to pause and reflect on why there is this difference in time period. Surely, there must be a valid reason behind each proclamation.

As I have mentioned in one of my earlier posts, there are five main elements that I have to abide to while in 'Iddah:

• I cannot marry another.
• I cannot leave the house to pursue unimportant matters, including social visits.
• I can only accept male visitors in the house while my muhrim is around.
• I cannot go back home (Malaysia) during this confinement period.
• I cannot don any attractive clothing or apply make-up as to avoid fitnah (Al-Ehdad).

Let me also make myself clear that in interpreting what has been passed on by our Lord and apostle, there are many different opinions that may differ from what I practice. I have received various comments and viewpoints about what 'Iddah entails through liberal modern eyes, yet I choose to conform to what I have been taught and what I feel comfortable doing. Although I admit I may not have strictly followed everything I had initially highlighted, I did try as best I could to keep to them.

A woman in 'Iddah is sought to confine herself to her home, limiting social interaction and unnecessary mingling, simply to protect herself against censure. Abstaining from social functions is one point I find most complicated because not everyone agrees or understands this. On numerous occasions, despite my casual explanation, I was invited over to friends' for social visits. I was even cynically leered once for not visiting. I actually did visit others, but only close friends and not when there is a crowd. Why was I expected to be there? More interestingly, let me explain why I shouldn't.

Having gone through 4 months of my 'Iddah period now, I understand why the period of grieve was necessary. A woman is made so feminine; emotional and sensitive that a devastating news such as a death of a spouse would definitely shake her down to the roots. Thus, the period Allah has set for her to grieve (note: grieving period for other family members is limited to 3 days - nothing more!) is a long enough period for her to adjust her life and get back on her feet.

For instance, take me - a person most people consider very strong (??!). I still cry thinking of the lost of my dear husband. I do not cry of regret, but I cry of sadness and disbelief; to actually think that he has left me - for real! Every time I bump into an ex-student, colleague, friend or acquaintance while I'm out running an errand, and they extend their condolences, I'd be spending the next hour or two feeling nostalgic and sad.

This morning, as I crossed the street after exiting the library, I met my ex-landlord - Mr. Majeed. I told him of my late husband's departure and immediately, his eyes became misty. We only lived nextdoor to him for three months, but he sort of had a bonding with my late husband. It was difficult to find people who could not get along with the late Mr. D, I must say. After bidding farewell to Mr. Majeed, I turned and walked in the opposite direction with my cheeks streaked with tears.

Being totally independent in this foreign land, without close relatives or chummies, I run my confinement days with minimal contact with the outside world. Yes, I go out shopping when the need arises, to work, and to some friends' houses for discussions or friendly goodbyes. But I do not accept invitations with crowds around. That would be categorised as unnecessary.

To some, I have been like a recluse - hiding in my house when the outside world is blooming away (well, not so much during winter though...). I know most people mean well but my situation does not permit me to accept such invitations. My apologies... Please understand that I still find it difficult meeting people - because I no longer have my late husband next to me. If people cannot agree with my stand, then perhaps just try to understand me - try fitting into my shoes, even though our sizes may vary.

Upon saying all these, I am now making plans for next week (and the week after, and the week after - Easter hols: hurrah!!). Once the 'Iddah period is lifted, I need to embrace myself and march straight ahead. I have my children's well-being and future to think of. Although a little anxious at times, I am confident that the Almighty has got it all planned out for us - all for the best. Hence, with constant prayers, including those from family and friends, our passage will InsyaAllah be clearly paved out.

So, hold your horses - give me some space. I am not making any serious decisions just yet. Come April - when the weather's all sunny, who knows what new ideas and possibilities will come, and which doors will open... It will then be a new episode altogether, InsyaAllah.

Lessons of life - Part One: Surrendering to the Almighty

It is an understatement to say that my life has changed since last October - it has turned 360 degrees! The loss of a spouse is something too big to be swept under the carpet, or to be brushed off with a statement, "Life goes on...". Nonetheless, that is what I often get. I guess what people are trying to say is that I've got to look ahead and plan out the future that is spread out in the horizon, instead of making the episode a handicap.

Throughout these past few months, I have searched for as many reading materials as possible on death and how others handle it. What I have realised is that in the Malay society, death is a topic so sombre and taboo, that most drown in their emotions and sentiments. Although the Malays are almost synonymous with Muslims, their practice is often more cultural than religious (perhaps an entry on this will be coming soon). On the contrary, the westerns are often more open and questionable when dealing with the issue. To me, they're all worth pausing and reflecting on. This entry is about two lessons I have learnt in the most significant episode of my life, of which I have either mentioned in passing in my previous entries, or in great detail with a few chosen close friends.

I consider myself very fortunate (Alhamdulillah) that the death of my late husband happened while we are in a foreign land, thousands of miles away from home. I know that if it had happened back home, the impact would not be as much as it is now. To me, it is not only a lesson worth pondering for me, but it should be worth a reflection for others too. For me, it is a test of my independence and capability to use my judgements; juggling my faith (Imaan) and emotions in handling with issues pertaining loyalty to spouse, love to family, trust to friends and relatives, and many more.

How can I not consider that the incident tested on my loyalty, love and devotion to my late husband? At times when he had restless and sleepless nights, I could not ignore him by falling into deep slumber; though that's what I sometimes did. At times when he could not eat and was throwing up the contents of all that was in his stomach, I could not turn my head away in disgust but to keep on encouraging him. At times when he made visits to the doctor and was sent away only to come back another day, I could not leave the health of my beloved to be decided by those who claimed to be experts in the field of medicine (hence my persistent queries and questioning).

Yet, I remained baffled and helpless; unable to put his ailment and woes to an end. Somehow, I do not regret all those. My only (slight) regret was not being able to spend more time with him in his last 24 hours because I was too busy attending to others. However, I had managed to spend solid hours minding and caring for him in the hospital from Friday to Sunday afternoon(26th - 28th Oct 2007), giving him all the attention I could. He was given a single room all to himself and we were together all the time. I remember him looking up at me and smiling, and us holding hands together. I remember walking him to the attached bathroom, waiting by his side when he sat crouched at the sink, vomitting his heart out. When he slept on the bed, I slept on the chair; when he slept on the chair (he was always very uncomfortable and restless), I slept on the bed.

But I also remember the amount of tears that wet my cheeks that weekend, as I realised that his health was deteriorating, instead of improving. It saddened me to bits to see the man I loved so much withering and becoming very frail. At that moment of hopelessness, only faith to the Almighty helped me to move on.

I am emphasising here again that ever since my late husband was diagnosed with cancer, I never failed to perform my tahajjud prayers (take note: I never did much of this previously), repetitiously reading in the last sujud:

"O my Lord! let my entry be by the Gate of Truth and Honor and likewise my exit by the Gate of Truth and Honor; and grant me from Thy Presence an authority to aid (me)." Surah Isra (17) verse 80

Yes, I sought for the presence of 'an authority to aid me', and Allah gave me just that. In no time, thanks to the existence of this blog, ex-school mates, ex-colleagues of mine and late husbands', friends, relatives, fellow-bloggers and total strangers were all knocking on our door, offering assistance. How does one explain meeting a relative, unknown to be in the country, in the Emergency unit at the hospital? How does one explain the financial support which flowed into my account totaling to a generous amount, that would only make you gape and gawk in disbelief? How does one explain the offers of alternative treatment from far-away countries and even as far as China? I received unbelievable support from family back home, the local Muslim community and the local Malay community - physically, mentally and spiritually. Not to mention the prayers made in the holy month of Ramadhan by the ummah worldwide. They were all 'sent' by the Almighty as authorities to aid me. Alhamdulillah.

It is well to give when asked but it is better to give unasked, through understanding
Kahlil Gibran, 'On Giving,' The Prophet, 1923

Lebanese artist & poet in US (1883 - 1931)

Every time I think of this, I cannot stop feeling so small and weak. There was nothing I could really do, other than to turn to the Creator of all creations, and to surrender in the truest sense. Only then did I understand the meaning of tawakkal. Life can not always be planned. Unfortunately, we (especially Malaysians) are often so cautious about every step we make, often ensuring that every decision into the future must be backed up with a strong lay-out; a five-year plan or a ten-year plan (talk about visions!). I was one who succumbed to that sort of living. There's nothing wrong with planning, but once it limits your trust in the Almighty, it's a total No! No! No!

Through hardship, I believe that Allah is simply trying to make us better humans. I must also mention that in battling through the wild waves, not all who approached to help managed to do just that. Some had 'good intentions' but were overshadowed with doubts and negative vibes that actually made a very troubled me more confused and restless. With 'good intentions', sometimes people forget the main objective of living and the concept of surrendering to the Almighty. Unkind words were thrown to my face, scribbled in my comment section (in the blog), and whispered behind my backs! Whose life was it anyway?

Some accused me of being the controller - not wanting to bring my late husband back to the land called home. Some persistently offered ways and methods of travelling back home. Some became pessimists who thought of all the horrible things that could possibly happen in a foreign land - differences in mazhabs, availability of Muslim cemetery (duh??), etc. I don't mind people sharing viewpoints and concerns because it always means that there are people who care (?!), but not respecting our decisions was a bit far-fetching, don't you think?

My late husband and I shared a life full of love and respect for one another that we openly discussed and decided our lives based on rational factors that were according to the religion. So, why couldn't people accept that BOTH of us had decided to fight the battle where we were at the present time. He was unfit to travel (whatmore on a flight of 13 hours, when he could hardly bear 3 - 4 hours' car journey to Durham a month earlier) and did not even get the doctor's approval to do so. He did not want to put himself into such agony and distress. The only thing he told me was, once the doctor says I can travel, I want to go to Mecca to repent and perform my ibadah there. And on the issue of death and burial, Don't you ever transport me home - have me buried as soon as possible; let me rest in peace.

In retrospect, the main lessons I have learnt and wish to share here are:

1) To understand the concept of totally surrendering to the Almighty, without any reservations

2) To offer the sincerest help to those who may possibly be in need, without hesitation

For the umpteenth time, I extend my gratitudes to the Almighty for choosing me as the one to be tested upon, and to all who have helped in any possible way - only Allah will be able to return your kindness and good deeds in the hereafter.

This entry is just my reflection - it does not intend to belittle, mock or ridicule anyone (my apologies if it has). My intention is clear: we learn from life and should always attempt to improve it and make it better. I am still in my journey through life and I'm trying to make the best out of it by pausing and reflecting...

We are NOT alone...

Last night, when we left Birmingham airport, we were hit by a sleet storm (for those who aren't so familiar, sleet is a mixture of rain and snow). In literature, that is what we call pathetic fallacy, when nature is personified and linked to human emotions. Ten minutes earlier, infront of the departure gate, each of the children kissed their grandad's hand and hugged him. When it was time for Little D, tears were welling up in his eyes. For the past few weeks, we had said goodbye to so many people already: Pak Ngah Hashim, Opah, Atok Alam and Pak Ngah Nonong. However, Little D had always seemed fine until last night. We watched Tok Bah walk to the counter and waved a frantic goodbye. Then, Little D hugged me tight. I knew that he already missed his grandad as much as he missed his dad. I carried him in my arms heading to the carpark and realised that we were walking in a sleet storm. We cuddled up together during bedtime, and I tried my best to put my children out of their worries and insecurities. They had bombarded me with personal questions which I, as a young child, would never have dreamt of asking any adult! Tactfully as I could, I answered one by one, hoping that what I said were the answers they wanted to hear and good enough for everyone. This morning, Little D woke up very unhappy. Unlike the few other days when he wails and cries his heart out, this morning he sobbed like a big boy. Five days short of being five, tears were rolling down his cheeks. I hugged him and asked what the problem was. I want grandad... I couldn't contain the despair in me and kept him in my arms. I didn't want to let go, just as much as he didn't want to get ready for school. Still, reality has to be faced, no matter how much we are against it. I kissed him and coaxed him into going to school, If you love grandad, you must remember to do what he wants you to do. He'd want you to go to school, so you'd better not disappoint him, okay? And, as always, I succeeded. I look down at my little boy and knew that he was already growing into a big one. Although many seem to think that he is oblivious to what's happening around him, I know that he's the one who misses his dad to bits. Last week, I tucked him in bed a little bit earlier than the others because he looked rather tired. After reciting his usual du'as, he fell silent. A minute later, I heard a small voice squeak, Who's next? What do you mean? I questioned. Who's next to die? My heart sank. As honestly as I could, I told him that anyone could be next but regardless what, Allah will always be with us... We will never be alone.