6 Years Ago – Bad news turns to worse news

Abu got better after the scare of him saying he wanted to bid us farewell. He even came home later in the week and I sought Isa’s permission to stay with him. Isa readily agreed and came to visit often. I had hope then, that he would recover. By the end of the week, I was determined he would recover. After all, doctors did get things wrong.

Abu was ecstatic to hear the news of my pregnancy. I was glad he didn’t say anything about living, or not living, to see the child. He just gave me lots of blessings and prayers. I was also determined to spend as much time with Abu as possible, having a laugh like we always did.

On Saturday morning, I took tea to Abu’s room and sat with him. I asked him to tell me stories about his childhood, for who didn’t like hearing stories of their parents’ childhood? He grew up in a place so different to ours.

“I remember once, there was a wedding,” Abu began. “Back then, only the rich had luxuries like tissues.” I knew this story, but I liked to listen to every story as if it was my first time hearing it. “We were kind of poor, innocent people. Things got better when I was growing up but I did see a little glimpse of what life used to be like. Although I did have the pleasure of experiencing no technology, close communities, no fear and it was amazing.” Abu looked away with a small nostalgic smile on his face.

“You and your brother and sisters sitting by one single candle memorizing pages of books for your homework was amazing?” I asked, recalling the other stories he’d told me.

“Maybe it didn’t feel so amazing at the time but now when I look back at it, it was amazing.” We always did this. We started one conversation and it led onto another.

“Back to the tissues, Abu.”

“Ah yes, the tissues.” He chuckled softly before continuing. “I can’t remember very clearly but I heard the incident many times from my father after that. So a rich family was having a wedding nearby and they had invited us all to go. On every table, in front of every person was a tissue. People had never seen anything of the sort. Unsure of what it was, people began to assume its purpose. All of a sudden, people began to eat it thinking it was food!” Abu and I laughed, shaking our heads. I looked up to see Abu’s untouched mug of tea beside him.

“Abu, drink your tea. It’s getting cold,” I said, taking it off the bedside drawer.

“I don’t want to,” He moaned like a child, making me smile.

“Please? I made it. Drink it for me.” He took the mug from my hands and brought it to his lips. He sipped his last few sips of tea, and perhaps he knew. I didn’t. Never was my father going to drink any tea again.

It was later that night when his health got bad again. Thinking Abu was improving, I had left to go home, only for a short while to collect a few things. Isa was enquiring about how long it would be before I came home.

“The house is far too silent without you,” He complained while I packed some clothes.

“I thought you said I talked too much.”

“You do but I’ve grown used to it and I maybe even find it a little endearing.” Isa looked up at me hopefully and I shook my head, fighting a grin.

“You know I can’t come home yet. I want to stay with Abu until I’m sure he’s completely fine.” A look of doubt crossed Isa’s face. “What? Don’t you think he’ll get better? He is getting better!” I said defensively.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.” Isa stood up and pulled me towards him, rubbing my forehead with his thumb to get rid of my frown. For some odd reason, it always worked. I stopped frowning and just leaned my head on his shoulder.

We sat down on the bed and Isa turned to another topic and we started speaking just for the sake of talking. Isa’s phone began to ring and he looked at it, raising his eyebrow.

“Asalamu’alaykum  Eliza,” He said with a bit of confusion. Then his eyes widened in horror.

“What happened?” I couldn’t make out what Eliza was saying.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Isa hung up and then turned to me. Putting his phone down, he cupped my face in his hands.

“What happened?” I asked again.

“Esha, I need you to be calm, okay? You need to stay calm and stress free, not only for your sake but for our baby too.” I nodded quickly so that he would hurry and tell me what was going on. “Your dad’s in hospital again. We’ll head over there right now.” I nodded robotically, the words refusing to process through my mind.

In a strange state, I tied my niqab on and I was led by Isa into the car. In silence, he drove us to the hospital. When we got there, he phoned Imran and got directions for the ward. Following Isa, I went to Abu’s room, Isa’s hand firmly in mine. Abu had his own private room and my family was seated around the bed on various mismatched chairs.

“Abu,” I called the still figure lying in the center of the room. My mum pulled at my sleeve and handed me a Qur’an. Isa got me a chair and I sat down. I opened the page to Surah Yaseen and silently began to recite. There were soft whisperings of Qur’anic recitation around the room and it felt peaceful, despite the situation. Isa stood behind me, reciting Surah Fatiha. That was until a beeping sound started. The kind you expect to only hear in films.

Doctors began rushing in and my reciting became louder and faster.

“You have to leave,” I heard someone vaguely say but my concentration was on reading. Louder and faster each second to drown out that terrible noise.

“Esha,” Isa put his hand on my shoulder. “Esha, finish your ayah, we have to leave.” I didn’t listen. He put his hand on my Qur’an and repeated himself more firmly. “Stop now, continue outside.”

“Ma’am you have to leave.” I stopped at the end of an ayah and Isa took the Qur’an from my hands, closing it. Then he helped me out of the room. Avoiding everyone’s gaze, I sat down. I thought I heard a sob so I refused to look up and fixed my eyes firmly on the floor. Isa sat next to me, his hand on my back.

A while later, a woman came out and said something along the lines of,

“I’m sorry.”

I shut my eyes and clenched my hands. I heard Isa saying something. The woman doctor was also talking. But I couldn’t make out anything anyone was saying.

And then the reality dawned upon me and my back shook while a sob escaped my lips. I pressed my fists against my eyes and gritted my teeth. Isa pulled me and held me close. I let myself fall limp against him, letting myself cry and letting reality seep in through every part of my body and my being.

Abu was gone.

We stayed at the hospital for hours before Isa took me back to my parents’ house. Well, it was my mum’s house now. I practically cried through the whole night and the whole morning. Isa was by my side most of the time, trying his best to comfort me.

The hospital kept Abu’s body for a day. I don’t know why, I can’t really remember. I think they always did this. Then he was brought home. His body was in the main room while the men, mostly Abu’s friends, prepared his funeral. They set a time at the masjid for Janazah, sorted out the plans for bathing him and such. Before they were going to take his body away, Ummi, Eliza and I were left to see him one last time.

He looked like he was sleeping and I stared at his face, hoping he’d just open his eyes and wake up. I didn’t dare to move my eyes away from his face, knowing this was going to be the last time I’d ever see him in this life.

There was a knock on the door before Imran and Isa entered. Isa held my hand as some other men followed to take Abu away. My mum let out a strangled pained sound and I panicked.

“Abu! No! Don’t take him yet.” My hands shook and Isa held me down. “Not yet, it’s too soon.” Isa avoided looking my way and said as softly as he could,

“Come on Esha, control yourself.”

“They’re taking Abu away!” I tried to free myself from Isa. “They’re taking him away. I need to look at him one last time. Isa stop them!” Before I knew it, they were out of the door and the room was empty. ”Bring him back!”

“Esha, control yourself.” I looked up to Isa’s face and saw tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing into his beard.

“I’m never going to see Abu again.” My voice cracked before I began crying again. Not the kind of cry that makes you feel better. The kind when you feel completely and utterly defeated and nothing in the world would make you feel better. And at that moment, I couldn’t imagine being happy ever again.

After that, every time I got control of myself, another guest would come and say they’re sorry for my loss. Then they’d hug me and I’d end up in tears. I’d cry during Salah and any prayers. My lips quivered as I tried to recite. My body kept going from hot to cold and I was continuously shaking.

By the evening, I was exhausted. My head was spinning and I couldn’t think straight. All that kept going through my head is, life will never be the same. I’d lost a huge part of me.

People told me to be strong. People told me it was Allah’s will and I knew that. Some people told me to stop crying and remember that this was Allah’s plan, therefore it was for the best. It was easy to say. Very easy to say. But at moments like these, logic and reason was no competitor with emotion. I was grief stricken. And in my state of pregnancy, I was probably even more emotional than usual.

All felt lost. It took me months to recover for another problem was lurking not so far in the future. But when I look back now, I see that I had so much. More than I knew. At least then I had Isa. He was my rock through that time. Through my father’s death and what we were to face after that. He helped me recover and heal, twice. And as ridiculous as it is to say, I wish he was there the third time, although that would have been illogical and impossible.