Chapter 57: Chapter 57

As it is said: Innalillahi Wa'inna Ilaihir Raji'un

From Allah we are, and onto him we shall return.

What if she was the one that died yesterday instead of Abba? What if it was her died body tied into that white yard not Abba's? What if she was the one in that wooden box not Abba? What if she was the one being prayed for and being buried feets beneath the earth surface? Is she ready for death? Had she done something accountable for Allah's rahma on her? Did she have even a little iota of assurance that she would be able to answer the questions she would be asked?

We tend to live our lives without thinking of death. We tend to always think that we would know, even if it's by a dream before we would die, we tend to believe that no matter how small it is, we've did something accountable for Allah's mercy. But have we ever think that Prophet Muhammad had being granted Jannah and still prays till his feets got swollen, asking for Allah's forgiveness? What have I done to deserve Allah's Rahma? Hayfah asked herself numerous times. She hugged herself at the far end of their room since she prayed her subh salah. She was afraid of Allah, the sight of the malakul maut, the pain of taking one's soul away, the feeling of finally giving in to ghost.

How would she feel, when she was the one laying on the ground like her Abba? She was sure he wore his clothes on-even if it was with aplomb-before taken to the hospital. But how would he have feel? Feeling and his Rouh seeing as someone would slowly detach those clothes away from his body? All his life, she was sure he started bathing himself when he was old enough. But how would he feel, seeing, feeling-as someone would bathe him? Without having to flinch even a single hair in his body? She knew he wasn't rich, but as every human, he is expected to have a little passion for expensive clothes. Hayfah wondered how he would've feel when being tied into a yard that wasn't even upto 300. She prays he was eager to be taken to his grave. She prays his Rouh smiled as people lowered him down into the tight opened in his grave, an opening that would only accomodate his body being turned sideway-facing the qibla, not that even his face was opened.

She prays her Abba was happy knowing his beloved ones were the ones that made sure even a single opening for the passage of air through his grave was closed. She prays he was eager to hear the faint sounds of their footsteps as his soul would be brought back to him and the two angels would ask him the questions so he could know his stand in the kiyamah. He could know wether his stay in the barzaq would be delirious or hazardous. Would his grave be connected to the peacefulness and joyfulness of the Jannah or the grief and melancholy of Naar?

Wa'iyazu Billah.

May Allah forgive her Abba. If Allah wants, that would've been Umma, or Amna, Taheer, even Adyan, or herself. May we all have good endings. May she live a delirious life in her kabr. May Allah make Jannatul firdaus to be the final abode of every muslim. Ameen.

She felt a slight tap on her shoulder, and if she wasn't into a melancholic mood; her eyes would've dilated and she would've shreaked out of joy. She looked at Fareeha with eyes that streams tears and shook her head, feeling how with each passing minute breathing itself suffocates her. She would've wished for death upon herself, if she was sure she would meet good there.

"He is dead. I'm alone, Fareeha; no one to believe me when being accused. No one to wipe my tears away and curve a smile on my lips, no one to stand for me even if it would call for a war. He is gone. You see how miserable I am?" She slurred with a drained voice that doesn't sound like hers. Since when she entered their room after Abba was taken out, she didn't talk but could only stare at the people trooping inside the room to say their condolences for her. She couldn't utter a single word.

"He is gone, but Allah is here, Hayfah. He was the one you should hold onto. He doesn't even drift nor does he sleeps. He's always awake, there to hear our wishes and problems. Pray to Allah, ask for peace of mind, his support and he would surely answer." Fareeha has tears rolling down her cheeks also. It just happened yesterday, but seeing as if Hayfah had been sick for a year detrimented her heart. She knew the death would take a hard toll on Hayfah, for he was practically all she has in this world.

Hayfah didn't utter a single word, but she let Fareeha's words sank into her mind and finding a spot for themselves-their authenticity riling up to her mind. She might've no one in this world, but Allah is surely sufficient for her.

"Hayfah, take something and eat, you can't starve yourself all day." Fareeha thrusted her a bowl of pap and plate of caked beans. She came inside the room and saw the bowl and plate placed beside Hayfah that doesn't even seem to know about their existence.

"I can't eat anything, Fareeha. How do you expect me to put something into my stomach? I just can't. Besides, I'm fasting." She has finally find something to tell whoever ask her to eat something. They're so inconsiderate to even think she would eat something at this condition of hers.

"Hayfah you aren't fasting, and you can't be fasting in this condition. Eat this please, even if it would be small, but don't live all day on an empty stomach-you'll be sick." Fareeha has tears of empathy towards Hayfah rolling down on her cheeks. She kept thrusting the caked bean to Hayfah's mouth until she finally agreed and let Fareeha fed her. It's good to have someone that would atleast be there for you. A friend indeed, not a friend in need.

***

As if it were a joke, Abba died seven days ago, and the house was now back to normal as it was, the people that came for the condolences have gone back to their various homes and life took on as if he never existed. That's the reality of life. No matter how you make an impact on someone's life, thinking that he or she wouldn't have a life without you in it-you'll surely have tears in your eyes if you could look at how even your loved one live their lives after your demise with just days that couldn't even reach a week. We have to stop living to please people, rather; Allah.

Hayfah used to wonder how Umma, Amna amd Taheer acts as if there was never Abba in their lives, they might not be back fully, but they seemed well_she knew she would never be the same. The fact that she once had a father, lived with him, and he's dead now would forever be in her heart. Whenever she opens her trolley and sees his Jallabiyya and Rukayya's hijab, she couldn't control her tears, that's why she've rearranged her trolley and put them the last thing in it.

It was today that she took the glimpse of her phone on their wooden wardrobe. She took it and plugged it on charge before she started reading the text messages her colleagues, excoursemates and even secondary schoolmates sent to her. She didn't even checked her call log, for there were numerous missed calls. She saw Malik's texts, for condolences, asking her wellbeing, telling her he have come numerously and couldn't see her, with lots of talks she doesn't spare a glance.

What caught her attention was she didn't see even a single missed call from Adyan nor a text message asking her wellbeing and Abba's. If she could remember clearly, she sent him a text before she came back to Zaria that Abba was seriously sick. What does this mean? She knew him asking for Abba wouldn't bring him back, but she expected that.

She finally came to the fact: she've lost her Abba, and she wouldn't mind loosing everyone else in her life. Nobody was meant to live forever.

She sent Maami and Muntasra a text about Abba's demise and switched off her phone, she doesn't need it anymore. For when she saw it, she had the feeling that even if it would be slight, Adyan would surely make her feel better, he might revive the lifeness in her heart, he might make her act onto any emotion_wether it's for love, hatred or pain. He would surely be of help. But nothing came. Adyan didn't realy cared.

Where was the I'll always be there for you?

He spent whole seven days without hearing from her and still didn't called?

Is that his I love you and couldn't live without you?

Is that his I promise to clear off any trace of tear on her face?

Is that his way proving that he badly wants her in his life?

She thought wrong.

She felt wrong.

She was well decieved.

She pulled out her book from her trolley and layed flat on her bed, tears that were almalgamated with pain, agony, melancholy and excruciating pain of betrayal and deciet rolling down her cheeks. She need to voice it out in the best way she knew of.

And she wrote;

I walk miles

Through the garden of pain and sorrow

With thorns and prones

Diving into my flesh

Thousands of the pain

I could welcome

Than the emptiness gripping my heart.

You promised to come

But there wasn't a glimpse of you

Could you possibly be hidden?

Would this be the life

I'm destined to live?

You once told me

That I should never lose hope

Life has something great for me

I believed-

For it brought you to my life

You healed my scorched

Heart

Even if it was for a mean time

Even if you came

This tired eyes couldn't

Recognize you

They've cried to the point of blindness

The spiritual connection

Would forever be there between us

Sadly, there isn't a soul in me

Anymore.

The usual flutters of the heart

When it sensed your proximity

It couldn't be there anymore

A rock is only what was enclosed

Beneath my chest.

I'm afraid

But even being pointed out

My already dead self couldn't recognise you

I'm just walking with an empty body-

That long died within.

She want to write something about Abba. She want to write something about the way his death drained her already empty soul. She want to write about how she missed him and longed for him. How she would trade the world for a glimpse of him. How she couldn't sleep without thinking of the life he lives in his grave, afraid that she doesn't know his how he was-but could only imagine he was cocooned in Allah's Rahma.

She put her pen back on the book; yet again, before a voice greeting Umma from their courtyard jolted her upright. She abruptly stood up and walked out of the room, her hijab was intact on her now swollen and empty face-she lifted up the curtain, and his face came to her veiw. The face she couldn't remember the last time she saw it. But what caught her attention more was he wasn't the only one, it was as if he escorted his family, and her gaze finally fell on the boxes of biscuits, sweets and chewing gum.

Umma wasn't alone, there was Taheer and some older man Hayfah had never seen, but he looked like a relative, with his long fulani nose and a curly hair-though it has turned to grey. And that was when she realized, Umma was fixing the date of her marriage today_just a week after Abba's demise.