If you're going to move forward in life,
You have to embrace the struggle and hurt.
Like you embrace the blessings and happiness.
No, I don't mean you rejoice during struggles and hardship, and I don't mean you should like to hurt.
But embrace the full spectrum of what life is. And when things get hard, bear the difficulty patiently and seek the lesson in it and that better part of yourself.
- Umm Zakiyyah
I was in a place, its darkness so thick and heavy that I couldn’t breathe properly. It looked like a grave, no, a Coffin. I was inside a grave because I could feel myself in a lying position like I had just woken up from sleep to see myself six feet below the earth. I could see my outer surrounding, opaque sky with no stars, only white smoke coming from God knows where.
I tried to sit up but found myself tied down by the same rope we used to tie Salsabil! My eyes widened in fright. Then a child’s voice shouted, "Mummy!” I gasped and tried to move, but the rope was too tight. I could barely breathe. “Mummy!” I groaned as tears began to flow down my face.
“Help!” I croaked out, trying not to panic, desperate to get to the child, my child before it was too late.
•••
I awoke with a gasp and an overwhelming headache. Clutching my sweaty head in my hands, my feet landing on the cold tiled floor, I rose slowly and moved into the bathroom to wash my face, ignoring my reflection.
It’s been three days now, filled with horrifying nightmares. I didn’t know what they meant. It always began with a child calling my name while I was trapped somewhere, with no one to call.
Mummy.
I never thought I would ever be called that, and of all places, nightmares? Good, God! And Speaking of God, I wondered if I should pray.
I stood in the bathroom, shaky hands gripping the porcelain sink, thinking. If I pray now, will God answer? Or have I been rendered unworthy of His response already? I sighed.
I had learnt in Islamiyyah that God is always present and ready to answer our calls. Anywhere. Anytime. Be it in a loud voice or deep inside our hearts, for He is closer to us than our jugular vein. But I was too guilty, too far gone.
Am I ready? I wondered. Or were these thoughts reminders that my faith might be weak but not dead. My heart was still alive, though corrupted, but it still recognized its Maker. Didn't that mean something, didn’t that make me one of the lucky ones, a sinner still able to recognize her Creator? Or at least wanted to. Do I want to go back, after everything I’ve done?
No, it may be too late. My inner voice said. And I believed. Besides, we were just getting started.
•••
I went into the living room to join Salsabil and her friend, Doctor Hidaya. After we exchanged greetings, I noticed that Salsabil didn't serve Hidaya anything to eat or drink.
"Haba Salasabil, how can you have a visitor and not serve her anything?" I scolded her.
Hidaya laughed, "Don't mind her." She eyed Salsabil playfully.
"Was it not you that said you didn't want me to stress myself?"
I laughed and headed for the kitchen. I came back carrying a tray of china jug of handmade yoghurt, and two cups. After placing it on the table between them, I sat beside Salsabil and clutched the pillow between us while Hidaya sat to our left, already leaning forward for the plate of chin-chin.
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