5 years ago - Final Flashback

Eliza had booked an emergency flight and came to Pakistan only two days after I told Ummi the terrible news. I told her as soon as we got back to our village and brother Khalil along with uncle Ijaz had started the preparations for the Janazah (funeral prayer). For the next few days, there were women flocking in from all over the village to pay their condolences. It was terrible, but I had Hadia, Inayah and the Masi from opposite my house with me the whole time, making the women tea and ordering them food.

The morning I broke the news to Ummi, I planned on phoning Isa's parents straight after but I couldn't bring myself to do so. I didn't feel like I had the courage. I delayed the dreaded phone call until late afternoon when I locked myself in my bedroom to pray Asr. I picked up my phone, and held my breath as I dialled the number.

"Hello?" Isa's mother's voice came down the line.

"Hello," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Who's this?"

"This is Esha," I said, taking a shaky breath.

"Oh thank God! Esha, I've been phoning Ado for a couple of days now, he's not picking up," Isa's mother said, calling him by his old name like she always did. "What happened to his phone?" I froze, wondering what to say. How was I going to tell a parent that the child they raised is gone.

"I don't know," I managed to say.

"Is everything okay? Is Ado there?"

"He's..." I trailed off as I bit my lip trying to keep control of my emotions.

"Esha, what happened?" Isa's mother asked, her tone giving away that she knew something was terribly wrong.

"I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry!" I cried, feeling guilty. Perhaps if I had never brought Isa to Pakistan, or if we had never gone Karachi, he would have still been alive and well.

"Please just tell me what happened!" she said, panicked.

"Isa's gone," I managed to say.

"Wha... What do you mean gone?"

"He passed away." There was silence before I heard a scream.

"NO!" She shouted and I heard Isa's father asking what happened before the phone call got cut off.

A little while later, the phone started ringing again and this time, Isa's father was on the phone, his voice shaky while he kept sniffing.

"How did this happen?" He asked.

"We went to Karachi for my cousin's wedding. When he was returning from prayer, there was..." I paused, struggling to get the words out. "A bomb blast."

"What? No, no, god, no!" I heard his sobbing and bit my hand to keep control of myself, tears flowing mercilessly down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

"God had willed it. I'm so sorry." I said, before I couldn't take it anymore and hung up.

When Eliza finally came to Pakistan, I was sitting inside, mourning on mine and Isa's bed, his absence drilling a huge hole into my heart. I'd woken up for the first time completely alone earlier that morning. On the first and third night, Inayah stayed with me and had her kids sleep in the veranda while she pulled bed woven from straw into my bedroom to sleep on. On the second and fourth night, Hadia stayed over. Last night was the fifth night and both of them stayed until late but I assured them I'd be okay alone.

I woke up at Fajr to a deafening silence. No one breathing to my right. No movements being made. No dip on the right side of the bed. I dared myself to look at my empty side. I looked over towards the door, willing for it to open and for Isa to step in, his sleeves rolled up and his arms, face and beard wet from doing wudhu. But I was never to see such an image ever again.

I forced myself up and did my wudhu and prayed, trying to maintain a numb feeling before I burst and let my emotions get out of control. Once I was done, I lay back down on the same empty bed. I looked around, my heart starting to beat too fast and I felt the loneliness as if it was suffocating me. I couldn't bear it. I reached out and grabbed Isa's pillow, clutching it to my chest, sobbing. It had the scent of his shampoo. I buried my face into it, wishing that the scent would never leave.

At some point, there was a knock on the gate and then Inayah and Hadia had entered with breakfast.

"You forgot to lock the gate," Inayah said with concern. "I told you to lock it before I left last night." I didn't reply.

"Esha, you can't keep going like this. It's dangerous to be so careless!" Hadia scolded.

"Who cares? There's nothing more to lose," I said, wiping away another tear.

"Esha! Look down at your stomach. There's life growing in there and it needs you. You can't keep going like this. You need to be stronger for your baby," Inayah said and I looked up at her.

"And I'm all the child will have, huh? A whole lifetime without a father. It's not fair on him. It's not fair on either of them. Isa should be here. He should be here!" I said before burying my face into his pillow again.

"Don't say that. It's not good to say that. This is what Allah willed. I know it's hard for you to get your head around it right now but believe me, things will get better. Don't say things like that," Hadia consoled, rubbing my back.

"When the baby comes, things will be better. And maybe in the future, you'll be able to give you child a father," Inayah said and my head snapped up.

"No!" I yelled. "If Isa can't be here to be my child's father, no one will be my child's father!" I almost made a vow to never remarry at that point.

Almost.

Even in all that grief, something stopped me from making such a promise. As if a little part of me was aware that taking such a step in the future may be of some benefit.

Inayah uncovered the food she'd brought and placed it in front of me. Hadia announced she was going to make tea and left for the kitchen.

"Try to eat something. You didn't eat much yesterday. This isn't good for your baby," Inayah said. I looked down at the plate with a parantha on it. "The tea's coming soon and when it comes, I want you to finish the whole thing? Okay? The women are going to start coming in a couple of hours and you need your energy!" I nodded, not having the strength to argue.

The three of us had breakfast together and I felt my strength build a little. Inayah and Hadia were advising me on having a shower and freshening up and eventually, I gave in.

It was still early in the morning when both my friends told me they had to leave. They'd both left their children with their husbands and said they needed to get back. I told them I understood and let them go.

But I wish I hadn't. The moment silence fell upon the house, the pain which had a eased a little crept back in. My thoughts drifted to Isa and my uncertain future with my child. I was scared.

Terrified!

Tears became a familiar companion of mine, flowing freely and tirelessly. I found myself clutching onto Isa's pillow again.

I didn't notice her coming in, I was too absorbed in my mourning. Suddenly, someone was embracing me and crying.

"Esha," Eliza said and I got up to look at her. "What have you done to yourself.

"Eliza. He's gone," I said and we both hugged each other and I cried again like I did the first time. I couldn't stop myself.

"I know, Esha. But please be stronger. Look at you! Look at the state your in!" It was true. My hair was a complete mess, my entire face was red and swollen. I looked like a mad woman! "You didn't lock the gate and you're not even covered," She reminded me. I forgot to lock the gate again!

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Why are you apologising? Look, you need to freshen up, okay? It might help you feel a little better. Go wash your face and comb your hair and come to the veranda. Farah wants to meet her aunty Esha."

"You left her in the veranda alone?" I asked.

"Mamoo (uncle) is with her," Eliza told me and I smiled. Uncle Ijaz was here.

"I haven't even seen him properly because of all the women coming in," I said, wanting to run out and hug him. I imagined it would be like hugging Abu.

"Fix yourself up first," Eliza advised and I nodded. I couldn't have him see me like this. I reached for the comb on my bedside drawer and then looked down at it. What was the point? Eliza took the comb from me and took a seat behind me, beginning to untangle my damp hair while she spoke to me, trying to distract me from the pain so that my tears would stop.

"Esha," Eliza started after a short silence.

"Mm?"

"Have aunty Nyla or aunty Maha come to see you?"

"Of course they did. When this whole place was full of people and everyone was hugging me and crying. But of course they had to anger me," I said, clenching my fists at the memory I so wanted to forget.

"Why?"

"Our dear aunts hugged me and began wailing reminding me that my father is dead, now I'm a widow and that my baby's not going to have a father and I have no one left and I'm all alone. They were screaming and crying and hitting their chests and talking about the loss of their brother even though this wasn't even Abu's funeral."

"Oh Lord, that's just... I just... You know what, I'm not gonna comment," Eliza replied, shaking her head.

"Yeah, probably best not to say anything about it."

"Sympathy seekers."

"Thought you weren't gonna comment?" I said.

"Shut up, you!" Eliza said, lightly punching my arm and smiling. That was the first time I genuinely smiled back. Then it faded and I felt overcome with guilt.

My Isa was no longer on this earth and I was smiling? How dare I smile? I felt like I wasn't allowed to smile or be happy without him.

But that's life. We lose people and we sob with pain coursing through us, wondering how life will go on only to be eating food the next day, and smiling the day after that.

I finished combing my hair, tied it in a bun and smoothed down my dress. Eliza got me water from the kitchen which I drank. I needed to go into the veranda to get to the bathroom to wash my face, so I'd be seen on the way. I skipped that step and went with red puffy face.

When I stepped into the veranda, my eyes fell upon my two year old niece held by my uncle, and immediately, various memories of Isa holding Farah flashed in my mind and my lips trembled. Uncle Ijaz put Farah down and I sat down next to him, trying to control my shaking.

"Asalamu'alaykum," I whispered.

"Wa'alaykumusalaam," Uncle Ijaz replied. I could feel his concerned eyes looking at me. "Look at the state of you! My child," He put his arm around me and I fell against his chest, starting to cry all over again. It felt like Abu was holding me, causing me to cry even more.

"First Abu left me and now Isa too," I cried, and I felt Uncle Ijaz shaking, giving away that he was probably crying too. He didn't reply. He just held me and let me cry my heart out.

I wasn't sure who I was crying for anymore. Isa was there for me when Abu was gone, and I wanted Abu here for me now that Isa was gone. But it was impossible. How could I have lost them both? The two men I undoubtedly love the most.

"Stop now, my child. Stop this crying. You're going to get sick," He said releasing me. "Look who's here." He said, picking up a frightened looking Farah while wiping away his tears, trying to distract me momentarily. "Say Salaam, Farah," Uncle Ijaz said but Farah flinched away from me.

"She still doesn't like me," I said with a smile.

"Maybe she'll like you if you stop crying," Eliza said and I shook my head at her.

"Fine! If that's what it takes," I said, attempting a little laugh as I wiped away my own tears for the hundredth time.

I felt better with Eliza around. She was a huge help when coping with the women who came to pay their condolences and drink tea.

A week later, Ummi came too after sorting out her visa and passport. I thought Eliza, Inayah and Hadia told me off enough to take care of myself but Ummi was worse. The day after she'd come, she started giving me breakfast in bed and force fed me all day.

"This bite is for you," She'd say, putting a mouthful in my mouth. "And this one's for my grandson."

"You don't have to treat me like a baby," I used to reply.

"You'll always be my baby," Ummi responded.

During this time, Isa's mother phoned me and I was surprised that she wasn't mad at me. Rather, she was supportive and we shared our pain with each other.

Though I felt alone, I realised I wasn't alone. I had many people who loved me and cared for me. It helped me through my pregnancy and finally, my little bundle of joy came, turning my life around again, for the better this time.

Finally, I had something to be happy about again.

Eliza had left to go back to Pakistan only a month after she came but Ummi remained. I needed someone with me at all times in case I went into labour and without my husband, I needed Ummi more than anyone.

It was some time in the evening when I went into labour and it was the next morning when the pains got really bad and Ummi called brother Khalil to bring his car to take me to the hospital. I felt extremely embarrassed until my next contraction in which I forgot my embarrassment.

I didn't feel as much pain as I'd expected. Or perhaps I  forgot some of the pain when my eyes fell upon my son, though for so long, I believe that to be a myth. He was truly like a ray of sunshine, and when I held him in my arms, I felt more happiness than I could ever have though I'd feel.

Once everything was cleaned up and the chaos died down, I held my baby against myself, making du'a after du'a for him. I thanked Allah repeatedly while softly kissing my son all over his face and hands.

"Have you thought of a name?" Ummi asked, sitting in a chair next to me, and I smiled.

"Isa was really indecisive with names. And he made a joke about naming our son Isa junior. We discussed how a name is like a du'a for a child and I cannot see a name more fitting for our son than Isa. It is my du'a that he grows up to be like his father so I shall name him after his father. And like the Prophet Isa (peace be upon him) grew up to be a great man without a father, I pray that my Isa will also be able to grown up to be a good man. This is now my Isa," I said, a tear rolling down my eye. "And I have Allah. He will help me."

I was happy at that point. And I wanted to maintain my happiness so I locked the thoughts of Isa's father in my heart but kept them out of my mind.

But everything has been unravelling and I'm finding myself unlocking my heart and unblocking my mind. Where I expected there to be pain and guilt, I'm finding a growing yearning. I want what I had with Isa's father again, even if it's with another man. I've accepted that no one will live to Isa's father's standards but it doesn't mean that I can't have a good marriage and a good life.

I can, and I will, if Allah wills it. For myself and for Isa.