Remembering Shauqina

Chapter 23: Gone

CHAPTER 23 : Gone

His funeral was so unlike him - I keep picturing him smiling shyly, keep feeling his tall shadow beside me all the time. All that was close to him came - his basketball friends, his classmates, teachers, school mates – almost everyone. His casket was carried by all his basketball teammates, led by Zainal. At the funeral, I saw Zainal glanced briefly at me, then gazed down at the red earth as it was spun mercilessly over Zak's white-shrouded body. Zak's father came to his funeral and I tried to imagine how such a big man could hit such a small, frail boy repeatedly and I couldn’t. It was beyond me how anyone would want to hurt Zak. I looked at his tombstone and tried to imagine how he was in the next life, and I couldn't. It was beyond me that this is his resting place forever, till the end of time. Till the end of time...seemed too long to wait for the next meeting, the next smile, the next teasing, the next shy look...God! When a parent lost a child, people sympathize, when a wife lost a husband, she becomes a widow, but when someone lost her heart, what do you call her??? What becomes her??? Almost everyone, no, everyone was teary eyed, sniffling, snorting - even the boys. Everyone except me. This teary teapot did not cry, not even once. It wasn't something I purposefully and consciously tried to do – not to cry, that is. The tears would not come. The longing, the sadness, the EMPTINESS was beyond tears. I remember questioning GOD, arguing with HlM, imploring HIM to make me understand. I would have went on in this world an unfeeling vegetable if not for that day when I passed my mom's room and she was praying, tears wetting her old cheeks:

'O Allah! Please give my little girl strength and patience... Please return her back to us…Oh! Please, my Allah...Please…"

It pained me to see my mom crying so. It was painful to feel the pain and seeing more pain. We are after all from HlM, and to HIM we will all go back to. My mother's pain and tears jolted me from my daze-like stupor. I ran and hugged her and she cried harder. I repeatedly said 'I am sorry' to her, of which she repeatedly kissed my forehead and my cheeks and I felt like a six year old again. I had only one thought in my mind however.

"May Allah accept yo, Zak, as one of HIS servants who was pure and righteous... May we meet again, akhi, and when we do, may we be among those who are blessed… Ameen. "

My night gown was wet with my mother's tears. Not mine.