Ya Rabb, I am Yours

Chapter 5

It had been two days since  Ali's death. My brother and dad had come from Canada for the funeral and all the preparations were done by them. 

I had not come out of my room since then. Whoever came to my house, I never left my room. People came, kept knocking and then went away. I had been sitting in the same position since yesterday, down on the floor, beside the bed, clutching Ali's pillow in my hand. I had cried so much that i thought there were no more tears left in my system, but whenever a new memory of Ali came to my mind, fresh tears began to flow from my eyes. I had not eaten or slept since 2 days. I felt like my life can no longer move on. I was so used to living with Ali. I was an idiot to even think about a divorce. I regretted fighting with him, arguing with him all the time. I wish i had worn that that jacket. It was just a jacket. Guilt washed over me as i began to cry again. What have i done? I cried as long as i could with my face buried in Ali's pillow. I could smell him. I wish i could see his face one more time, could touch his face, could look into his brown eyes one last time. I missed the purity in his eyes. The love he had for me was always so visible in his eyes. I miss you Ali. I love you. I hope you have found your true happiness in jannah. I had heard him praying once, begging and pleading Allah to give him jannah, that his true happiness was not this life but his life after death if he got jannah.

I stood up and saw my reflection in the mirror. I had not changed my clothes. I was wearing the same black shirt. The whole length of my arms was visible. The shirt was so tight that my figure was very prominent. I could not look at myself in the mirror. Was this actually me that I was looking at. I tried to cover myself. Where was my jacket. I tried to look for it everywhere but could not find it. I started feeling suffocated. I picked up a crystal piece from the table and smashed it at the mirror. I opened up my cupboard and looked through the clothes. There was nothing there that i could call decent. Ali's voice rang in my ears " wear your jacket." 

I pulled all the clothes out of the cupboard and began throwing them in the bin the corner of the room. When i was done throwing everything except a few shawls and some jackets, i draped a shall around my shoulders and on my head and began sobbing hysterically leaning on the bed. 

"I am finally going to meet Him now, Fatima," I heard Ali's soft voice in my ears. 

How was it possible? O Allah, I want that happiness, that joy too that Ali experienced. How could it be that death held more charm to him than life itself, Ya Allah. What did you give him that You did not give me, Allah. What was i devoid of that i never experienced such peace in life that Ali faced while his death. O Ali, i wish you were here to tell me what I should do to be close to Him.

"Read Quran, Fatima. All your problems will be gone." He had said it to me once when i had asked him about a major problem. I had mocked him then.

"Ali, this is a practical world where problems simply cannot be solved by reading a few words in a foreign language," I had replied to him. 

I got up and went to the bookshelf. I took out the Quran from the top shelf.

A page was folded slightly from the corner. I opened that page.

On the folded corner of the page was written something.