The burial

I have learned many thing about myself since my son died. In all honesty some of those things I knew before. Its the death of my son though that has allowed me to look deep inside myself to see what Im actually made of. I dont know how to emphasise that the death of your own child isnt the same as the death of anyone else. I know because I have felt the grief from someone else. When Yasmin died I remember being in shock and even now 2 years later…I still feel pain for the loss of my friend. I asked myself had I stayed in better contact with her would she have chosen some of the paths that she took in her later life. I worry about her children even though I know that they are safe with their father and I speak to her mother regularly. I love her very much. May Allah bless her. But the pain of Yasmins death didnt prepare me for my death of Al-Haarith and every single ayat and hadeeth that we read as muslims comes into very real play when something like this happens.

When my son died I had a lot of people telling me what they think I should or should not do. Have an autopsy. Dont have an autopsy. Go to the burial. Do not go to the burial. 

I wasnt prepared for what death is in Islam and the janazah process was like in Islam. My ex husband said that he felt I shouldnt go to the burial. Not because it was haram but because I wouldnt be able to handle it. Now thats a valid asessment of me by him. He knows how emotional I can be. But the thought for me of not seeing my son laid into the earth was incomprehensible.

It was bad enough that he was dead. There was no way that I was going to let him go to his last place without my being close. So I told everyone that I was going. I have a very good friend here in NYC. She isnt muslim. Shes actually a 4ft 11 latina. But for all of the kalam that was around me from those who promised they would be there at the burial etc. She actually did what she said she would do. She leased a car and drove me and a few others after the  funeral van to the cemetary in Morganstown, NJ where my son was to be buried.

Its a new place. Al-Haarith’s was the second one to be buried. It is a beautiful place and as we got there . I realised that this was it. My sons soul was going to come back to his body and he would start his questining.  The men took my sons body to the edge of the grave and the Imam lifted the cover of my sons face so that I could see him for the last time.

At that moment I felt my heart break into the reality of what had happened fell upon me. I was looking at my dead son. At the grave t here was but a handful of people. All the brothers that had promised to be there hadnt turned up. I guess it was to far for them. His father couldnt be there. I had left the younger two boys at home. It was me and a few others. Kinda symbolic of the life that I had lead with my son. I looked at my sons stiffened body and tears began roling down my eyes as I said goodbye. And I spoke to him even if he didnt understand or could hear me. I told him that I was there for his entrance into this world and I was there for his exit. I told him that I loved him and I would never ever forget him. I cried silent tears because inspite of what those people said. They didnt understand one thing about my love for my son. And that was this.

I loved my son because he was a gift from Allah. I didnt love him because he looked like his father or walked like his father. I didnt love him because he made me laugh or he listened to that mp3 player. I loved him first for the sake of Allah and I reminded him ALL THE TIME that he had to adhere to Islam. I didnt tell him that it was haraam to have sex. I told him that it was better to wait for when he got married to a nice sister. I told him that this was better because thats  the best thing for him. I taught my son by example and i did that for the sake of Allah.

So when I stood at his grave in a situation that many that read will never  have to suffer Insha Allah I didnt start wailing or screaming. My tears ran silently. My silent sobs were exact;y that as I watched Alhaarith lowered into the earth and for one moment. One fleeting moment I saw myself jumping on top of that box to kiss my son one last time. I saw myself but I didnt because I didnt want my son to suffer one iota due to my cries.

Because thats the reason that people get punished more according to ahadith and my love for my son was such that I would never have caused any harm on him, I didnt oppress him in life and there was NO WAY that i was going to opress him in death. Thats what I

That came from my belief in Allah not my love for my son. It was Allah azza Wa Jal that gave me strength at that grave and nothing and noone else.

And I told Alhaarith that I had to leave him now. That I had to say goodbye and I told him to remember all that I had taught him about Allah. I walked away from that grave and it was the hardest thing in the world.

And looking back 2 months I know this. What I have been through is not something that everyone can handle We can all theorize on what we would do or how we would act but its when you are faced with something monumental like this. Its when you have to deal with this kind of tragedy that you know what you believe in and how.

And I believe in Allah as I have always believed in Allah and its to HIM that I seek solace and only Him.

Short and Bittersweet

Woke up this morning feeing rested for the first time in a long time. Heard the baby in his brothers bedroom watching TV. The first thing I did was call Al-Haaaaaaaaaaarith.

But there was silence.

Then that fleeting moment of forgetfulness left me and I remembered again.

Thats how it comes.

Forgetfulness is a blessing for me because for one small moment…I think that everythings normal but it isnt. Is it?

Today its been 11 weeks since my son died. Babies have been born. Seasons have changed. But one thing hasnt changed,

People say to me..you seem to be doing ok. And I say how am I supposed to be. Walking around in tatters wuth my mascara runing down my face? I still feel the same, Im still lost and you know what worse? My sons have lost the ummi that they used to have.,.because even though Im here…part of me has gone. I had an idyllic childhood. They have to have one living with this.In a way I feel like I failed them but then I read in the news that a woman killed herself last week. Her son died 2 years ago and she never revovred. She used to participate in groups to remember her son(He was killed in Iraq). On the surface she seemed “ok” but she wasnt. She was slipping and she chose to take her life because she wanted to be with her son.

Having other children its hard to understand taking my life plus with my belief in suicide being haraam. I cant even imagine that but bear that in mind. Just because it looks ok doesnt mean it is.

Thats why I blog. Thats why  I have always blogged.

When I start to get really dark. When I feel myself fall into myself..I say  yes Alhaarith died. And today and tomorrow and every day a mother is going to say goodbye to her child and never see them again. Im the only one who lost Alhaarith but there are mothers that lost their hearts too. We all feel this pain individually but as a collective we cry together.

My thoughts are with Mike Tysons wife. Losing a child in the way that I did is terrible and I often think about what I missed. What I could have done. For her daughter to die in that way…I dont know how you can see the daylight knowing that your child died in one of those moments (as mothers) where we blink for a split second.

And another mother will bury her child.

But we’re just an ordinary family..

The day after Alhaarith died, Dihyah looked at me with his big eyes and said, Ummi…why did this happen to us…I mean we’re just an ordinary family.

I looked at him and I felt so weak. For the first time in my life ..I couldnt explain to my son why these things happen. I had to tell him that they do. But thats how it feels. What a lonely place to be.

Such a roller coaster of emotions. I crave the days where I feel hopeful but day like today. Grey days. Days when all I want to do it sit alone are hard. Im a mother grieving by myself. Being a single mother is hard but being a grieving single mother is so much harder. My ex husbands fortunate. He gets to be with his wives and forget this. Distance can be such solace at times like this. You can dissociate yourself from the reality of what happened. Its the same kind of dissociation that allows us to disconnect from those things that we should never be disconnected from. I envy him. I envy his abilty to disconnect. When my son died I wasnt able to tell him straight away.  I didnt have a number. Well tell a lie. I had a number but it was lost on my aol account months ago. When my son died. All I could do was call a masjid that had no answerphone and try to ask brothers I knee to get hold of him. In the end he found out in the worst way. Ill aways regret that. I dont think that death of a child should be given to a father other than by the other parent. I have to keep reminding myself that Im not the only parent of Alhaarith who has to live with this loss. No matter what we do to busy ourselves. When we lay our heads to sleep at night., We lay our heads knowing that one of our sons is dead.

Thats not easy. Today is a dark day for me.

I was sitting quietly and I said out loud OMG Alhaarith is dead.

Thats how it is. 

We are an ordinary family but this piece of ordinary I didnt want a part of.

My thoughts are with another sister that lost her 8 year old daughter in Birmingham last week. Make dua for her also. Im not sure of the details and I wouldnt narrate them here anyway without her knowledge but enough for it to be known that another little sister has returned to her Lord. Inna Lilahi Wa Inna Lilahu Rajiun.

ON EDIT

I realised that actually we arent ordinary. Theres nothing ordinary about the things that Ive seen or seen done. Nothing ordinary at all.

My Life..

As a new shahadah there were a lot of things that I didnt want to bother with anymore. I wanted to embrace every aspect of Islam in every way but there was one thing that I never was able to handle. My love for the music of Mary J Blige. It just seemed that her lyrics were the backbeat for my life. So when it was time to to to Saudi…all I could think about was how was I going to bring my Mary J Blige tapes with me(Back then it was tapes..1994)…I never forget sitting in Madinah listening to Mary J Blige…. Real Love I sang while I sat in the heat. My then husband used to always tell me to stop with the music. I never listented to him much because back then I knew I could generally get what I wanted from him (Oh what a blessed few months that was)

That was the only pregnancy that he was really happy about if Im honest. The only one where he really was connected and Id wake up with him rubbing my stomach.  He wanted Alhaarith as much as I did. Maybe even more, A new child with a new wife? It was exciting. All through the years Ive remained a fan of Mary. This song in particular always held something for me. 

Its been something Ive wanted since I was 19. Maybe Ill get it one day.

Thats all I have to say today as Im still under the weather. Flu like symptoms! Hmmm at visiting the drs office on Monday!