My mother had been severely ill for the last three years. Each year saw her condition getting more severe than the previous year. For the last one year, she had been totally bedridden and secluded to a room. It was a psychological pain to play with the children in their playroom, to sit in the lawn or to go out for a walk, knowing that my mother was lying all alone in her bed.
We fed her all kinds of soups, milkshakes and fruit-punches. Only, she could not taste any of them, because she was fed with an NG-tube. One day, I tried to please her with some honey drops, but to my despair, she choked over them as her food canal was occupied by the NG-tube.
When we bathed her and creamed her and dressed her, she looked like a doll and smelt like a baby.
We shifted a computer and a television into her room, so that we could schedule some useful entertainment for her. We played her recitation of the Holy Quran in the morning. It was followed by a two-hour Dars of the Holy Quran. She slept in the afternoon. We put on some current affairs talk-show for her in the evening. We played her some lovely and faith-inducing Nasheeds after that. At night, we caressed her to sleep and completed the day with recitation of Surah-e-Mulk which basically says,
“Blessed be He in Whose hands is the Kingdom of the universe and has power over all things. The One Who created death and life, so that He may put you to test, to find out which of you is best in deeds. He is the All-Mighty, the All-Forgiving.”
[The Holy Quran, (67) Surah Al-Mulk, Verse 1,2]
Obviously it is a coincidence that my mother died at the age of sixty-seven, that is the number of this Surah of the Holy Quran. However, I focus on this message of the Holy Quran very, very hard now when faced with her death. It helps me stay composed and not holler my sorrow.
Whenever sorrow, sadness and depression wells up inside me, I recite some sweet prayers for my mother and divert the depressing emotions into the will to do something great in life which I pray would become Sadqa-e-Jariya for my mother and me. Prayers and good deeds are the only two things by which I can benefit my mother now. Our prayers and dedicated good deeds reach our bygone beloved-ones as gifts wrapped in brilliant colors and shining ribbons.
I feel remorse too. Yes remorse, because after her death, I felt again and again that I did not do enough for her. There was so much more that I could have done. There were things that I had planned but never got round to them or did not have the resources to do them. Sometimes, I was unable to simply follow her scheduled routine. She could not even call out and remind me that I had forgotten to do something for her. I divert this remorse too, into willpower and action.
My mother had stopped walking, stopped eating and then stopped talking. Then one day she stopped breathing as well. I do not think I will ever forget her last moments of This World. And I am grateful to Allah Almighty that He gave me the chance to be with her in those moments.
On that day, I came upon my mother as usual in the morning after sending the children to school. I saw her breathing with a little difficulty. I called the nurse around. She also confirmed that this breathing was not normal. My mother did not seem in pain but her breathing was a little forced. We contemplated for a few minutes. There had been some false alarms a couple of times previously as well. We wanted to take her to the hospital only if her condition grew hazardous.
At the same time, I felt that if this was her destined time of death, I did not want her to die amid doctors, machinery and a chaos. I wanted her to die in the comfort of her home and the love of her family around. I wanted her to die in my arms.
She was breathing but the stethoscope could not locate her heartbeat. As my sister-in-law rushed around to have the ambulance number ready-at-hand, the nurse whispered, ‘It is no use going to the hospital. She is going now. Her feet and hand are already cold. Her Ruh is just in her breathing now.’
I think it was one of the most poignant moments of my life. I was already bent over my mother as I listened to the nurse. I turned and looked at my mother in a daze. The world around us seemed to disappear. It was only my mother and me now. I slowly started reciting the Kalimah, over and over again. My voice was thick and my tears were falling. To my amazement, my mother found the energy to vehemently nod three times to the Kalimah proclamation. She could not speak, and she could hardly move, but Al’Hamdo li’Allah, she asserted her faith in La illaha illallah Muhammed ur Rasoolullah in her last moments of life.
I quickly turned on her morning recitation, which I had gotten late to do so today. It comprised of Ruqiya for the ill, Surah-e-Yaseen and Surah-e-Rahman. Surah-e-Yaseen is said to ease the pangs of death. After a while, I saw her forceful breathing calm down. It was a surprise and a relief. She seemed drowsy from the effort of stressed breathing. She seemed to going into a restful sleep. Good, I thought, let her sleep and get some rest.
I checked in on her after a while. She was deep in sleep. Or was she? I touched her cheek to respond some movement. None. I looked at her chest to see some movement. None. I panicked. I opened her eyes. Thank God there was light in them. Nonetheless I called the nurse to confirm that she was okay. She opened her eyes and observed her and started sobbing. ‘She is gone, she is gone…’, she said, and started pulling out her medical insertions.
‘Wait!’, I said, ‘Her eyes are still alive…’ ‘No, you don’t understand. Her soul has left. The body shuts down gradually…’ ‘No, don’t hurry so. Let me check…’ ‘Let go, she is gone…’ And then I noted that her eyes were still shining but they were absolutely still…I pushed her chest and it grunted one last time.
My mother’s soul had departed from This World into the Hereafter.
When I was young, I used to sleep cuddled with my mother. I lied down with her once again and held her close, knowing that this is the last time I will be able to do so in a long, long, long time. This is the last time I will be seeing her, touching her, smelling her, feeling her, lying with her, in This World. I kept lying with her for about three hours.
I am a Muslim, and I have always been taught that the Hereafter is the real world, which will live on forever and ever. This World is only a short stay and an examination hall for the Hereafter. Yet, This World was very beloved to me as it had all the people I love and all the things I enjoy.
Today, however, the Hereafter has become much more beloved to me than This World, as my mother has gone into the Hereafter.
I cannot wait to go to the Hereafter, where I will see my mother again. I cannot wait to go to the Hereafter, where I will kiss my mother again. I cannot wait to go to the Hereafter, where I will hug my mother again. I cannot wait to go to the Hereafter, where we will laugh together again. I cannot wait to go to the Hereafter, where we will eat fun food together again. I cannot wait to go to the Hereafter, where we will be together again. That is, hopefully, if Allah Almighty places us both in the Illiyeen and Jannah.
Although my daughter is a striking image of my mother, both in looks and personality, and I am grateful to Allah Almighty for this strange solace that He had planned for me, yet, I want my mother herself too.
It must be terribly sad to be an atheist and not believe in the Hereafter. How do these people cope with the death of a loved one?
Allah Almighty, I thank you today, for creating the Hereafter. You created us with feelings of such love which never die. It was only fair then, for an Eternal World to exist, where people never die.
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