Starting Over…again.

Its been so long since I blogged that you would think that I forgot how but like riding a bike or holding a pen..there are just some things that you dont forget. Its hard to know where to start but I guess the best place to start is right here. At this point on the 2nd of Shawwal, I am currently in iddah. Yes, I guess I didn’t mention that I had gotten married. Well I did. Two years ago to be exact, a few months after Al-Haarith died. It was a huge mistake. They say dont make any major decisions in the first year and I sure made a doozy. The brother is younger than me although that is not a precursor for excuses. The truth is he was younger but it wasn’t going to go well regardless. From the start I knew that he had “issues”. In this society the kinds of issues that people have are innumerable but he had the kind of issues tat started out small but just increased until they were mountains. Im not going to go into details because there is no benefit to that but know that it really shouldn’t have been a surprise for me so my blogs will be a recap to get those who stayed loyal to my blog up to speed, and let you know what I have been up to.
Its late and I want to fast tomorrow but I will be here blogging daily insha Allah.
Talk to you soon.

Love and Lectures.

I’ve never used my writing to vent at people. Well maybe once or twice in a very clandestine way but for the most part when I write its my way of honing my writing skills. Its connecting with the things that makes me happy and one of those things is expressing myself via the written word.
If I was to start with all of the things that I had to talk about I think Id be here all day so I’ll attempt to place you (The reader) in the place where I am now without too much of a rude shock to the system.
LAst Sunday I gave a short talk in New Jersey for some sisters connected to one of the Salafi MAsjids. My good sister in Islam (who also happens to be my ex cowife) had asked me to do it. I agreed thinking that it would be good for me to do something that would focus me away from the turmoil that I had been undergoing and direct that energy to something that would get me closer to Allah.
I had no idea that the event was as high-profile as it turned out to be Well hold up. When I say high-profile I don’t mean that there were foreign dignitaries there. Rather that there was a group of woman…lets say more than 20 less than 100; It was intimidating.
When I realized the scale of the event I played with the fantasy of not turning up but I knew that wasnt really a good option. I mean people were depending on me. I was supposed to be the main event ..How was i going to leave the sisters in the lurch like that? So I strengthened my resolve and decided to place ALL my trust in Allah.
The title of the talk was “Love for Allah” with come focus on the etiquettes that we should have towards one another. I like to talk but I don’t consider myself a speaker. I have always avoided the limelight..even in the heady 90s when being married to someone in the limelight seemed to excite some. I never enjoyed being connected to a “name”. I’m more low-key like that so this for me was a totally new direction. One that I really never wanted once in my entire life as a muslim.
But here I was.
Sitting nervously at a table hoping that no one would turn up(Astagfurillah) afraid that I would make a complete fool of myself.
When it was time to be announced I was shaking from my knees upwards. I was petrified. I don’t know how I got up to the table without slipping but I made it.
My ex co introduced me and then I was on.
I see 20 or more tables in front of me filled with beautiful women covered in various styles of hijab. I gulped and proceeded to recite Khutbah Tu Haajah(The Khutbah of Need) and then it was as if Allah sent some peace onto me. All day I had been making furious dua for Allah to cement my niyah. That I was doing this for His sake and nothing more or less. As I spoke I felt this unbelievable calm come over me and I began to feel committed and in love with the words t hat I was speaking. I was talking about My Lord after all.
It felt almost like the time I kissed the Black Stone in Makkah. I felt in total ebadah of Allah with nothing other than love for my Lord.
Before I knew it I was finished. The nodding heads and approving smiles from the sisters was a sure sign that my talk had been a success. They thanked me as I stumbled back to my table and grabbed my hand to comment on what I had said.
I was happy. Not because I had pulled it off but because I had released my fears and placed my desire to propagate Allahs Deen before my own nafs.
Reflecting on the events from a self-satisfied relief…I have to say that it was one of the most sublime events in my life. I have spent my years worrying and trying to take care of my family and Walhamdulillah I have been able to do so with Allahs permission but this was different.
It helped lift my emaan and I think that its time for me to grab hold of what could be and release what was.

Every day I miss my child Al-Haarith. There is a hole in my heart that will never be fixed but the best thing I can do is concentrate on my Deen and maybe I will be of those that Allah loves and perhaps be with my son in the next life.

” When Allah loves a person He calls out to Jibreel…Allah loves so and so and so Jibreel loves that person too. Then Jibrieel calls out to the people of the Jannah..Allah loves so and so ….so love him also. So they do.
And then acceptance is established for him on earth”
Imam Nawawi said that This acceptance means that people on earths hearts are inclined towards him and love him.

I hope that I can be one whom Allah loves and I wish the same for you too.

Assalamu Alaikum

Where I am today..

The past few weeks have been an exercise in patience. It was the years anniversary since my sons passing. It just went so fast and so much things have happened in the inbetween time. Some good. Some bad. But always marred with the knowledge that Al-Haarith isnt here anymore. The other day I spoke to a good friend of mine here in NYC  and she said to me that I had to keep on living. I had mixed feelings about what she said. Have I stopped living? Am I wallowing in my own grief? I dont think that I have. Time forces me to move on. I cant avoid the day turning into the night and the night turning into the day. I cant “make” time stop. I dont have that power. Can the death of my son be compartmentalised into a drawer thats entitiled “A Day in the life of Myopic Vision”? I dont think so.

Losing him is the most traumatic event of my life and I have been through trauma. I thought being divorced and tryinh to raise three sons in the aftermath in the midst of the most extreme difficulty was the worst thing. I thought staying in a motel room in Ohio for the best part of a month was hard. Allah knows how I found the $250 a week that was needed to pay for that rental. But now. Losing him was the worst and Im telling you that time does force you to move on but it does not heal the hole that I have in my heart.

I can smile. I have to smile because the opposite of not smiling for me is a dark place where no one can reach me. A place where I wake up with a weight on my heart and progresses to me falling asleep only to wake up unable to breathe. Thats how it gets me at times. The imability to breathe. As if my brain goes on strike for a few seconds. Its scary but I have come to accept that this is part of my pain, My grief and now the new found existance that I have to endure.

I had a lot of anger at the time of my sons aniversary. I was angry because there were people who were supposed to have been helping me at the time of Al-Haariths death that ended up being more of a fitnah.

I miss my son more than words can say. This isnt like your mother passing. Its not like your brother. This was my 13 yr old son. The son that I remember rubbing lotion into his feet in order to show him why it was important to keep the skin moist. The son that I used to watch Heroes and Lost with. The son who used to carry ALL the bags of groceries when I came from the store. The son who said he wasnt that strong. The son who coughed. The son whom Allah took with no warning.

I miss him. I will be blogging more. I have a plan and I want to execute it. This blog will facilitate that end.

Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for checking up on me and seeing if I was ok. Thank you.

Aaishah

Three Days I cant forget

March 11th 2009 was the day that he died. March 12th 2009 was the day that he was born. March 3th 2009 was that day that he was laid to rest. The joy I felt seeing him for the first time after fearing that he would never come. The words “we will need to use forceps” forcing me to focus and push. Seeing his beautiful oh so wise face. Everyone else had to sleep with their babies and care for them no matter their condition. The nurses didnt want to let him go. They passed him around like a gift. Cooin and ahhin at his calmness. It was the day of my most intense joy. “You bring me joy” was playing. I was sublimely happy. 21 years old. Never saw what life had to bring to me. Never dreamed that id understand utter sadness. Utter despondancy. Utter grief. That he who made me so happy would be taken from me. How can one experience be the cause of so much joy and then pain? The day he was laid to rest was the day I was laid to rest emotionally. Saying goodbye to my son was the hardest thing I ever did. Me? Who was so afraid of sleepovers. Worried about the night falliing on my son outside. I had to say goodbye to my son and walk away.Knowing I couldnt do anything to help him. Having to place all my trust in Him. The way to achieve true patience is by being patience. Like Job. Like Jacob. And so I try to achieve that which oftentimes feels unobtainable. Three days that I cant forget.