In My Sister's Shadow (Book 1)

4. Funeral

Bruised from my encounter with Amjad, I was weak when the hearse arrived placing a heavy burden on my chest. Dad and my male cousins pulled the plain brown box out of the car to a wail of cries. Through the tears we recited the kalima (Testimony of Faith), 'La ilaha illallah Muhammadur Rasulullah, (There is absolutely no deity worthy of worship except Allah, and Mohamed (saws) is the Messenger of Allah.) 

The coffin was carried into the ladies hall. Upon seeing the brown coffin that signified my darling sister's life, my knees gave way. Darkness engulfed me and the crowd swallowed me. The thought that I would never hear Zeenat's snorting giggle again devastated me. It was four weeks ago when I saw her standing in our kitchen piping Zara's birthday cake she had freshly baked. Quickly I took a picture and she stuck her tongue out flicked her leg back.

"Come on! A selfie!" she beckoned me over, but I avoided the camera. I wish I didn't. It would have been our final picture together. My chest tightened with grief, restricting my breathing. Swathes of family and friends read the kalima aloud standing beside the body.

Inside the mosque, the ladies room was heaving with emotions. The coffin rested on a raised platform and women encompassed the box looking through the window at my sister resting in pace. Wails of tears, and cries moved the room. My mother stood at the top of the coffin cleaning the glass with her scarf talking to Zeenat as though she was listening,

"Oh my child! You have left this mother's chest burning with fire. How will I lower you in the earth, when I held you by my heart and rocked you to sleep? No mother should ever bury her child!"

I couldn't bring myself to stand close to the coffin and to see my sister in her final stage. It would make everything real. The sea of women surrounded me hugging and kissing as we were overcome with relief. The stampede of women increased. It was hot and sticky. No place to sit or stand.

There, in the crowd I saw the tiny faces of my sister's children standing by their mother's coffin like strangers. Unbeknownst to them their mother lying in there. They looked around at the faces consumed with grief holding each others' hands. My heart broke into a million pieces and I pushed past to be with them.

"Zara! Armaan! Aymaan"

Aymaan was in floods of tears. His cheeks red, his eyes puffy destroying the life in me; I couldn't bear his tears and pain. I lifted him and held the other two and pulled them out of the room, like a raft pulling them from the darkness of the sea. They didn't need to be there. They didn't need to see all this and I took them outside.

"Where's mummy?" Zara looked around. "Dad said we will see mummy." Zara looked old for her tender age.

Hadn't the oaf told her? I fumed with anger.

I took the children back to my house. It was quieter and safe here. A better place to tell them. I sat them on the sofa and kneeled in front of all three of them.

"Darling, your mum is not here." I held Zara's hand chocking back my tears. I had to be strong for them. 

"Where is she?" Zara scratched her head.

"She's...." I stuttered.

"Your mum has gone to Allah. She is sleeping with the angels." I designed reality appropriate for their age.

"Can we go and see her?" Armaan added

"NO!" I snapped. "No-" My tone slighter lower.

"Gone? Forever?" Zara raised her eyebrow. "So who will come to my awards assembly? Miss Harris said that mums and dads need to be there."