The day of the surgery arrived. Hashim, lying on the gurney, was wheeled into the operating room. The atmosphere in the operating room was a new and unsettling experience for him.
"Nerve-wracking..." his heart whispered.
"Mr. Hashim, as previously explained, let me reiterate. You will be anesthetized shortly. The surgery is expected to take between 8 to 12 hours. Insha Allah, everything will go smoothly. Before we begin, let's pray together for a successful procedure," Dr. Falih gave the final briefing before the operation commenced.
In the corner of his vision, Hashim noticed a covered figure, also prepared for the surgery.
"Perhaps this is the benevolent donor," he thought to himself. "May God bless your kindness and may everything turn out well," Hashim silently prayed.
As the anesthesia began to take effect, Hashim slowly drifted off, and time seemed to stand still... darkness... and he lost consciousness.
The next morning...
Hashim slowly opened his eyes. His body felt extremely heavy, and he could feel sharp sensations in his chest.
"Ah... maybe the effects of the anesthesia are wearing off," Hashim thought.
"Mr. Hashim... can you hear me...?"
The familiar voice... "Dr. Falih..." Hashim answered faintly, his throat parched.
"Alhamdulillah... the surgery went well. For now, we will place you in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) for close monitoring. No visitors are allowed during this period. I hope you recover quickly," Dr. Falih spoke with a calm demeanor.
Hashim thought about how his mother must be eager to visit and how worried she must be.
"Nurse... could you please tell my mother that the surgery was successful and that I am doing fine?" Hashim whispered to the nurse on duty.
The nurse nodded, her face obscured by a mask.
Days passed, and Hashim's condition improved. He was now ready to be moved to a regular ward.
"I can't wait to see Mother," he thought. "She must be so happy to see me healthy and safe." He was eager to reunite with his mother.
However, Hashim's anticipation seemed endless. A day after his transfer from the ICU, his mother had still not appeared.
"Maybe she has some other errands," Hashim speculated, trying to comfort himself.
The next day and the day after, his mother still did not show up. Concern began to take root in his heart. Hashim decided to speak with Dr. Falih.
"Mr. Hashim, are you looking for me?" Dr. Falih inquired.
"Erm, Doctor, has anyone contacted my mother... I mean, informed her that I've been moved from the ICU?" Hashim asked.
Dr. Falih seemed taken aback, though part of his face was covered by a mask. He paused, looking left, right, and sometimes behind him, as if searching for someone.
"Erm, Doctor, is something wrong?" Hashim asked again.
With great formality and evident reluctance, Dr. Falih began, "I hope you can be patient with what I'm about to tell you. Can you promise me that? Because you're not fully recovered yet, I can't risk your health." His tone was stern.
Hashim, listening carefully, could already guess. The figure next to him in the operating room must have been his mother. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. He barely registered what Dr. Falih was saying.
In his mind, memories of his mother replayed vividly. She had nurtured him from birth, tended his wounds when he fell, worked tirelessly to raise him, and had faced countless struggles for his sake. "Oh God..." he lamented, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of such trials. His heart ached with the intensity of the memories.
Dr. Falih handed Hashim a letter, placed in an envelope, into his weak grasp. Hashim clutched it tightly, the final message from his "heavenly angel."
**A Letter from Mother**
Assalamualaikum my dear Hashim,
If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer here. I apologize for keeping this matter from you.
A child may face the loss of their parents, but it is far more painful for parents to face the loss of their children. Perhaps you will understand this someday.
This decision was mine alone, unaffected by anyone else. Please do not harbor anger towards anyone, especially the doctors, who I believe did their utmost.
Furthermore, I am old now. I have seen enough of the world. I sought guidance through istikharah before making this decision. There are times when your father comes to me with a smile. His good condition makes me long for him more. Perhaps this is a sign that it is time for me to leave you.
Don't worry about the hospital expenses. Uncle Ngah has agreed to cover them from the inheritance of your late grandfather. Everything is settled, and the remaining funds should be used for your education or for doing good deeds.
Aside from that, I have no other possessions to leave you. Only a piece of my heart filled with boundless love. With this piece of my heart, I forgive everything, I bless everything with all my heart and soul for your happiness, life, and purpose. Carry my hopes with you wherever you go. No darkness can obstruct the path of someone who is steadfast and seeks God's pleasure.
In closing, I pray for your full recovery. Never forget to pray for me and your father, for only prayers and good children are the legacy we leave behind.
May we meet again in the eternal world.
Your mother.
