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Chapter 20: Life Continues

6th August, 2019

Be your own saviour and you'll be a hero to the world.

"The photographs are her mind. The poems are her heart. The vibes are her body. The secrets are her soul.

You can search the whole world, but you won't ever see her in someone else, you won't ever find someone like her. The photographs, poems, vibes and the secrets, they were all her. All along." He left out a deep sigh.

Within the long distances of our hearts, where I could never see or touch you but could only think of you, there, that I love you! Even if you have reached the next stage of fate beneath the dust and soil, or if you belong to a whole new different world, my heart will always reach out for yours through prayers and love, through the long distances of time and memories.

"Ameen, you can't stop practicing medicine just because you think it was your fault. Even when you weren't her official doctor. She haemorrhaged to death, you couldn't have known that. Her body was weak and it's nothing you could have do-"

He cut her off, "I should have been there for her the last two months. To her care. Maybe things could have changed, her body would have reacted differently during the delivery. I should have been more watchful and protective and I should have been . . . just there for her."

Esta pressed her lips, "For a doctor, I can't believe you are leaving things to suppositions. You don't know that."

"Yes I do. What I didn't know was that I loved her!" He gulped.

"You are right. Love is . . . when you don't know." She paused. "But, you can't shut the world out because of this supposing guilt."

He mocked a slow laugh, "You have no idea what's it like to be a doctor. You always feel the reserved guilt. Whether or not they are your patient. Every time a life is lost, the guilt comes to prey on you like you are some kind of known predator." He looked away. "Turns out that in the end, we don't really want what we really wanted." The slow and empty aura dulled around.

"Ameen, trust me, I know what's it like to lose someone you loved. Eventually you have to accept that it's all a part of life. A way of life. You come to reach a point in life where loss becomes something you were expecting, something like an old friend." Esta said, her words even slower and broken. "It's a futile attempt to purposely make yourself feel the guilt when you think the feeling is just there as it's natural, because you hadn't done enough. Yes, it's never too late because whatever happened, whatever you have done within your time with her was all written. You couldn't have done more. Nothing could have changed that. It's like . . you are wishing it to be better than what's already written by Allah? You think you know better? Your thoughts and feelings are better than Allah's knowledge and plan? I know, that's not what you intend, but it comes out that way. And, it wasn't within your decree and fate to have or get done more than what happened. You have to believe that, because if you don't then you are letting the devil win. That's the thing about him, he wants to see you in pain. And when we are in pain, we are likely to go astray, with questions and mindless and vague thoughts, and even feelings, especially when we let them out, because that's the point in which we are the most vulnerable. And suppositions lead to kufr, open the door to shaytaan. It's forbidden and completely illogical. It's one thing to keep the feelings in and it's a whole another thing to bring it out. Often, it's best if we keep the inside in. As often, what's inside, it's never meant to be brought out. It's like, violating the rights of your own insides. It's shaytaan making you think that you haven't done enough, that it's too late. That's why we say, that it's never too late. You have time to repent, to pray for her, to take care of your daughter. That's how you try to remember Taraa. Not in pain, not in useless ifs and in wishful thoughts that would never belong to the reality, and definitely not in long-life grief. You did grieve her, and it's over. Whatever time you had with her, whatever good and bad you did, I mean the mistakes, it's done. You couldn't have done more than that. You did enough. You couldn't have known that she would be gone. That's why death . . . it's always unknown. That's why it's a test."

Ameen shook his head, his words stuck in his throat.

"If you don't mind my asking, who was that first girl you had married?" She nervously asked, hoping it wouldn't trigger anything.

Oddly, Ameen was rather calm about it as he began, "She used to be a nurse when I was a resident at the hospital. I knew my parents would refuse her for marriage because she wasn't privileged enough, so I didn't bother . . or maybe I was a coward for keeping the marriage a secret. She had no family, not even relatives. She grew up in a Girls' home. At first, I had feelings for her but then that turned into pity. That's the thing Esta, being good, extremely good brings the bad that you never ever expected."

"You mean, being naive?" Esta corrected.

"That works too." He shrugged.

"Why the divorce?" She inquired more.

"She blamed me for the miscarriage! I couldn't balance two different lives. My guilt outweighed my wants. I had to do something about it, especially when I felt like I wasn't being respected. She insulted my money, and more . . she was just unfair!"

There was a long silence between them and Esta broke it, "You did the right thing."

"Yeah, right! I can't imagine what life would be like, living with guilt and loss! Can't imagine myself moving on, don't know whether I even have a life!"

"Ameen, life will go on. Whether you like it or not, whether you want it to or not. Life continues, and yes, without Taraa. And now, it's up to you whether you will or not." She repeated, "Life continues, with difficult lessons, and hurtful conditions. Life continues . . and despair won't change the reality, your reality."

"Nothing really matters to me, life and I always feel like I don't matter at all . . " He paused and before he thought he had read her mind, he quickly cut her off, "What, you are gonna tell me that it does? That I matter?"

She simply smiled, her eyes glassy and her voice broken, "No, I was going to tell you that you are right. Yes, nothing really matters in life!" She paused, trying to get the words out.

"Nothing really matters in life unless and until we want them to, unless and until we make them matter to us, unless and until we choose for ourselves to matter to others." She inhaled in the weight of her words and continued, "And that's the thing about life, it's all us. We make things because we choose to. We also don't make things because we choose not to. We try to blame it on life without realizing that it is us who we are really blaming it on. And yes, you matter to your own self because Allah chose you to exist. It was His plan. And that's a matter that should matter more than enough to you. You existing is a matter that should matter to you because He gave you a purpose. Life. And that explains you. You are the life that matters because He is watching you, He is testing you and He knows. And that's all that matters."

"What's the point of life? I'd rather die than live. Just like Taraa." He huffed.

Esta let out a surprised chuckle.

"What's funny?" He asked, annoyed.

"It's not funny anymore. It's sad." She mused. "Ameen, in the end, we all die alone. When Taraa came into this world by Allah's will, she brought her own fate along with her. I get that you miss her but you should also understand and accept that you weren't the only thing in her life. You weren't the main plot. You were only a part of the overall plot. Death is a part of life Allah keeps warning us about. I won't say it's natural or scientific, for the mind's sake. But I will say that it's real, for your sake. It's sad that while experiencing the loss you want to become the same thing for someone else. You cannot possibly come down to this point where you want to die because someone else is already dead. The point of life isn't death. It's the way you have lived to die."

"This isn't easy." He shook his head, his eyes watering.

"If it weren't, then Allah wouldn't have burdened you with this. Allah does not burden a soul more than it can bear. He says, with every hardship, comes ease. Not once, but He said it twice. He knows you, He knows you can get through this. He knows that you will come out stronger. He knows." She paused. "It's all a part of the test. And you know that. Just do well!"

° ° °

"We all get into specifics when it comes to life. What people don't understand is that life isn't something specific. Life in general is mainstream. I remember a colleague of mine who was very specific about her job. She wanted to preach Islam, but she also wanted it to be official. Not something voluntary. I remember her saying that she was qualified enough, that she had it in her. She didn't want to be a volunteer. Then it occurred to me that when it came to careers and professions, it doesn't matter how small or big you start. What matters is that you start. Regardless of it being big and official or even small and voluntary. Because you never know through what and whom Allah opens for you the doors that become official while in the small start, while being a volunteer even. So start small, because when we see the shiny luxurious tower in admiration and in awe, we don't see the foundation, the base which is covered within the dirt and mud beneath. We see the end result. The highlighted interior and the neat rigid structure. We don't have to have everything official in life, as, if we keep continuing as a volunteer, through time it simply becomes official to us. It's official that that we are doing it, it's official that we are making a difference in the world without a bunch of paperwork. I went back to wondering that if she really loved what she wanted to do as she had claimed, why did she needed it to be official? Preaching Islam is solely for the sake of Allah. If one were to teach Islam solely for the sake of Allah, money, specific paperwork, fame, reputation wouldn't matter to that person. Volunteers are the real ones who display faith and humility, empathy and compassion, love and courage, will and act. That's why our beloved prophet had said, "The deeds depend on the intentions." So what really are our intentions?" She finished leaving the head of department impressed.

"I really want to be a volunteer here." She went back on.

"Why exactly?"

"I'm not doing this for money. Or opportunities and good will. I'm doing this for time and for people. Believe me, I've got nothing to lose. Only to learn and heal." She smiled politely, mentally rolling her eyes at her own self for giving in the unprofessional attitude.

"Fine, you are in. And since you were honest with us, we'll make it official." The manager pressed her lips.

Delera shrugged, "Well, that wouldn't hurt nor matter. What matters is my purpose."

The manager looked up at her, "And what's that?"

She got up to leave and said, "My time for others."

° ° °

The sirens made his muscles relax more than the coke cup than he was having. The dark night made it even better as the street lights were in a great fuse, he loved how the blue red lights were bouncing everywhere and as for the scene in front of him, he was seated relaxed and calm with his legs crossed and his smirk on show.

It felt great good to be finally free from everything that kept him held up from enjoying life. All that family drama, his mother's funeral, the court, Hadi, his depressed father and the business. Damn, they all took a toll on his life. Finally, he can do whatever feels good.

"Dude, it's a freaking crime scene. Not the movies. I mean, at least have some respect!" Kalim reproved.

"Yes, I'm inspecting."

His friend rolled his eyes, "Whatever man, just make sure I don't get glares from my boss because of you."

"Your boss's boss is my uncle. So, I'd like to say the same for him." He smirked at his friend who in return only huffed and left him.

Soon Abed's eyes caught the sight of a familiar girl not so far from where he was, a paramedic was putting a blanket over her shoulders and was reassuring her. She must be the neighbour. And what seemed like, she went to the same university as him. He looked away when she caught him staring at her, and he cringed in his seat when she was storming towards him.

"What is wrong with you? Do you think it's funny what happened here?!" She yelled at him, fully aware of the person in front of her.

The infamous heartless billionaire.

"Um, that depends! So, do you see me laughing or something?" Abed shrugged, his cold eyes and deep voice were annoyed.

"No, I see you having the time of your life when someone was brutally shot to death. And why are you even here, Kalim's not allowed to bring you along with him, on whose authority you thought you could be here?" She spat, Abed only yawned.

He slowly got up, walked up close to her and worded out, ever so slowly, "On my authority!"

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" She yelled at him as he was about to leave.

"I think I'm Abed. What about you, who do you think you are?" The harshness in his straight voice scared her, she knew to stay silent then, but she needed to say this,

"You never understand something until the same thing happens to you!"

Abed furrowed his brows at her words and decided to apologize, "Dina, I'm sorry, I was just . . ." He shook his head when she walked away.

"Kalim, what is up with women! I mean Dina is real pretty but why she gotta be like Esta and Taraa or even mom, sometimes! It kind of sets my teeth on edge." Abed ranted as Kalim came up to his side.

"Speaking of the women in your family . . ." He trailed off, his words tense and he didn't look very good.

Abed frowned, "What's wrong? You okay, what did you see in there?" Abed asked, hoping the topic was about the murder and not his family.

"No, Abed you don't understand! It's Taraa!"

Kalim breathed out and Abed gulped. And when Kalim actually broke it out to him, Abed felt like he didn't even know life. But he knew two things. Dina was right, and the whole point of the crime scene was a reminder.

"We belong to Allah and to Allah we shall return."

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