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.