Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts

Saturday, February 27, 2016

A Grieving Mother's Note



Ten long years have passed since February 27th, 2006, the tragic day we lost our child, a day that marked our lives forever.

Today is the 10th anniversary of the day I lost my beloved little son Ali, the day a part of me died forever. Not a day has gone by when I don't think of him. I wake up everyday ,since that day, knowing I will never be able to see my son again, at least not in this life. I know I will never be able to hold him, hug him, kiss him or watch him grow and that yearning tears me apart. Yet, I carry him in my heart everywhere I go. I feel him in every corner of our home. I picture him beside his brothers and sister. I imagine him walking along every child who should be now his age.

Despite all the years that have passed the pain is just as raw. It only takes a memory of the loss to trigger it and bring it back to the surface again. It is like a wound that has been covered with tissue, but any small scratch can make it bleed again. They say time heals everything, I somehow agree, but this kind of pain doesn't heal nor does it get better with time. Ten years later, it is still intense, there to stay and will never go away. I just learned through my faith in God to accept it and endure it as the years go by.

A wise man said "grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve." The experience of grief when losing a child is lifelong. During the funeral I was numb with pain, then I fell into a depression and went through all its stages. The only thing that kept me going was my faith and my two dear children. I had to pull myself together and function for them. I was on autopilot going through the motions of daily life, but inside I was still falling apart.

Over the years I mastered how to control my pain. It is only like today that I allow myself to grieve like every mother would and should. I allow myself to unleash the pain and let go of all my emotions, to cry and let the tears wash some of the pain away. The vivid memory of every detail in  that day keeps replaying in my head and all the emotions it stirs come up to the surface once again. The heaviness in my heart no longer is contained, it is an overwhelming physical pain that flows all over my body. This day I prefer to spend it alone, so I can let my guard down. There is no one to upset and I can just feel.

Whenever I talk about Ali or someone mentions him, my eyes instantly fill with tears but my heart is warmed with joy that he is never forgotten. Hence, his sweet memory brings a tear in my eye but a smile in my heart. I never dreamt of Ali, except once a few months after the funeral. I dreamt that he was offering me a cup of water. In Islam dreaming of water is a sign of happiness, peace and prosperity. I have never dreamt of him since, throughout these years. I guess he is very present in my conscious that he doesn't appear in my subconscious.

I decided to make the dream of Ali and his memory be my inspiration to do as much good in this world and to spread happiness and peace. I pray that one day I will be reunited with my little angel up in heaven. Until that day comes he his living in my heart, in my mind, and in every breath that I take.

I want to thank on this day my family and friends who stood by me in this painful time, along my journey, but most of all I want to thank my dear husband, who was experiencing the same pain yet managed to be my rock and support me through it all. God bless you all.





Friday, August 24, 2012

The Ultimate Truth


Today was just like any other ordinary Friday, where my husband and sons usually go to prayers and then we all go out for lunch. We were about to reach a friend's house, where we were invited for lunch, when I received a call. One of my close friends was at the other end and asked me in a shaky voice to urgently go over. I dropped my family and rushed quickly to her place and there was my friend in tears while her mother was sitting peacefully yet motionless on the sofa. I reached for her pulse but there was nothing. The ambulance came right after my arrival and tried CPR but all was in vain, her heart had stopped and she was announced dead. May God have mercy on her sweet and kind soul and may she rest in peace. Today my friend lost her beloved mother and I lost a dear person I called "aunt".

I was faced again with death for the third time in my life. I had witnessed the death of my own father almost 18 years ago and my son's 7 years ago, both deaths were extremely painful and shook me to the core. However today was another vivid reminder of the moment of truth which we can never escape nor delay, yet many seem to forget. As painful as the moment was, stirring all kinds of memories and feelings of grief, loss and sorrow as much as it was an intense moment of realization. I was reminded once again that we will all also perish and be swept away in a body bag and eventually be buried in the dust. Nothing really matters, whatever accomplishments and status we achieved, all the material gains we collected over the years will not be with us at this moment, our corpse and all our good deeds only is what will be left of us.

"To God we belong and to Him we shall return" as stated in the Holy Quran. Whatever faith we belong to, or not, and no matter how different our journey in life is, we will all be faced with same end. What will remain is the good we did and the memory we will leave behind. Hence. let us make our lives worthwhile, let us reflect and see what really matters, let us make a difference while we are still alive. Let us make peace with ourselves and with others. Let us not have any regrets. Let us all remember that we are mortal human beings, from earth we were created and to earth, eventually, we shall return.
Let us never forget that death is the ultimate truth in this life...


Monday, February 27, 2012

For My Little Angel


On a day like this, a part of me died forever.
The loss and the grief, my heart did sever.
The devastating pain turned into tears,
And ever since, have been rolling down for years.

I wish there was something I could have done.
I wish I was there to save you, my little son.
It took a while to realize that you were really gone,
An agonizing reality, which I could not shun.

I will never see you grow up, nor go to school,
Share with me things, you would think are "cool".
I will never see you turn into a fine young man,
Pursue your dreams and be anything you can.

You will always be my little toddler,
And in my thoughts I imagine you getting older.
You now have a new cute little brother,
Who gave us back the joy and the laughter.

My little angel, you are always in my heart,
No matter where you are, we are never apart.
Masking my grief and sorrow, I mastered like an art,
But there are days like today, when I just fall apart.

Six years later, my heart still aches like it was yesterday,
I know that this pain will never go away.
My only remedy is to cry, cry and pray,
And deal with each emotion, day by day.

I miss your adorable curls and your lovely giggles,
I miss your chubby cheeks and your joyful shrieks,
I miss your soft kisses and your tender hugs,
I miss caressing and holding you so tightly in my arms.

Wherever I turn I see your face,
In every corner I feel your trace.
My only solace is that you are in a better place,
Soon we will be united with God's grace.


Related link:
A Tribute To My Son




Wednesday, September 14, 2011

A Tribute to My Son



This post is neither political nor poetic; it is simply personal and deeply emotional. It has no links, except one, and that is to my heart. I was initially hesitant to write this because it is deeply personal and still very painful for me. But in the end, I decided to share it.

I am not writing this to seek sympathy or to preach. I am writing it to share a difficult chapter of my life’s journey, in the hope that perhaps someone may learn from some of the lessons I learned along the way, or find some comfort in my experience. Sometimes in sharing our pain, we are reminding others that they are not alone.

September 14th is a date I will always remember. Seven years ago, I was blessed with a precious gift from God a beautiful baby boy, my son Ali. 

Every mother who is blessed with the joy of giving birth believes her child is special. But my son truly was special. He is an angel in heaven. He filled our lives with so much joy and happiness in the short time he was with us. A year and five months later, our precious gift was taken back by his Creator.

I cannot recount the painful and tragic events of that day, nor can I explain how it happened. Although six years have passed, it still feels like yesterday, and the pain remains just as intense. My life suddenly and tragically turned upside down. Everything that once seemed important suddenly felt trivial and meaningless.

Losing a loved one is one of life's greatest pains, but losing a child is a pain no parent should ever have to endure. It is an excruciating sorrow, an everlasting agony that no parent can ever truly prepare for or forget. It tears you apart and, with time, becomes an ache that settles deep within your heart, a heaviness that stays with you for the rest of your life.

I miss my son every single day, but especially today, on his birthday, I miss him tremendously.

A mother never truly recovers from the loss of a child. You simply learn to live with a missing piece of your heart. You wake up every morning and carry on with life while knowing that a part of you is missing forever. On a day like today, that pain of missing him becomes overwhelming.

So I am writing this post as a tribute to my dear son, to remember him, to honor him, and to thank him, and above all, to thank God for blessing my life with him. Although he was with us for such a short time, his impact on our lives has been everlasting.

The loss of my little angel changed my life, my family's life, and the lives of some of our closest friends. It made me reconsider my priorities and reflect deeply on life and the Hereafter. In so many ways, it was a wake-up call.

I am a Muslim, and my faith is what held my husband and me together after losing our child. It was through faith that we found the strength, patience, and, above all, the ability to accept and persevere through such an enormous calamity.

Just as having him was a blessing, losing him was also, in its own way, a blessing in disguise. His loss brought us closer to God. It taught us to appreciate every moment of this life and every blessing He has given us.

In Islam, we are taught that a parent who loses a child and patiently perseveres while abiding by God's commands will, by His mercy, be reunited with that child. The thought of our child waiting for us at the gates of Paradise, taking our hand and welcoming us, is one of the most beautiful promises a grieving parent can hold onto.

What more could a mother ever wish for her child than to know that he is safe, at peace, and in Paradise?
My husband and I look forward to that day, the day we are reunited with our little angel.

My journey through grief and depression was a long one. I experienced many of its stages. I desperately searched for something that would help put me back together and ease the pain. I tried counseling, although I never accepted medication. I tried Reiki, but eventually stopped because I was reluctant to open my chakras. I painted, something I have always enjoyed. I wanted to write and express the roller coaster of emotions I was experiencing, knowing that writing can be therapeutic, but for a long time I simply couldn't. So, I resorted to the one thing that came naturally: endless crying.

The only thing that could get me out of bed each morning, pull me together, and make me go through the motions of the day was my children. My family and friends were there for me throughout it all. They stood beside me, supported me, and tried in every possible way to bring me comfort. For that, I will forever be grateful.

But what I needed most was God. And He had been there all along. All I had to do was seek Him.
Don't get me wrong, I was a practicing Muslim, but I have to admit that I was not a fully committed one . I never asked myself the cliché question, "Why me?" I simply struggled to comprehend and cope with the pain and enormity of my loss.

As my pain intensified, so did my search for closeness to God. And with that closeness came the comfort I had been desperately seeking. I found an inner peace and serenity that I had never known before. And, eventually, I found acceptance.

Immediately after my son's funeral, my husband and I traveled to Mecca and Madina, where we performed Umrah, the smaller pilgrimage. We had performed Umrah twice before when we lived in Saudi Arabia, but this journey was different. It carried a meaning and a depth that I had never experienced before.

As I came to understand that nothing in this life is guaranteed and that none of us knows how much time we have been given, I decided not to keep postponing a journey I had always intended to make later in life. Several months later, at the end of the year, I performed my pilgrimge "Hajj"; the journey of  a lifetime.

The point I am trying to make is that having faith can give us the strength to survive even the most devastating experiences. And if you don't have that faith, seek it. Hold onto it. Because without it, a calamity of this magnitude can become unbearable and, perhaps, destructive.

I pray that no parent ever has to experience the loss of a child. And I pray especially for all the mothers and fathers who have lost their children. May God grant them patience, serenity, strength, and peace. May He ease their pain and help them persevere through the unimaginable and enormous pain.

I am forever grateful to God for all His blessings, but most of all, I am grateful that He blessed me with enough faith to withstand such a tremendous loss.

God  was generous and blessed me with the joy of motherhood not once, but four times.
And then, two years later, I was blessed once again with another child. I gave him one of God's names, a name that means gratitude. He was a much appreciated gift; a blessing and joyful final addition to our family. So when people ask me how many children I have, I always say:"I have four children." Because I do.

May God bless and protect all of my children, always. And may He bless all of your children and keep them safe from harm. Every mother wishes for her children to be granted a place in Paradise. I am grateful to already have an angel there, hopefully waiting for us.

Finally, I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that there is always a lesson and wisdom behind what God chooses for us. We may not understand that wisdom immediately, or even in this lifetime, but I believe it is there.

We must never forget to appreciate all our blessings and should be thankful for the hardships, because life will inevitably bring us many tests and tribulations. Every hardship shapes us and teaches us something. Every trial has the potential to bring us closer to God and help us become better human beings.

Our time in this life is short and precious. We should make it worthwhile by loving more, appreciating more, giving more, and trying to make a difference, even if that difference is small.

Happy birthday, my beautiful angel.
Until we meet again. ❤️