Genuine Gems (GRATITUDE)

17) Tears of gratitude

" I said NO!" The tone of his voice told me that his decision was final....
Angry tears welled up in my eyes as I pushed away the phone.. why? Why?! It was not fair! Why could I not go to my friend's house during the weekend? She doesn't have brothers, her father is in Jamaat,( preaching ) so why can't I go? I muttered to myself furiously. I covered my face and locked myself in the room, ' what am I going to tell my friends? It was so embarrassing! It was so unfair, I hated it! My whole life sucks! I pushed my pillow angrily. "It's not the first time, it's always like that! I'm always the different one, the odd one out I fumed to myself. TOO STRICT! I said aloud, TOO STRICT, TOO STRICT for no reason.

It has been like this all my life. Ever since I was small. I never got crisps or chocolates for break.. my mother would pack healthy carrots for me, making me a laughing stock and social outcast in class. If I was caught watching T.V, I was faced with punishment. I had been told to give all my favorite clothes to my small sister because they were short sleeved even before I had turned twelve! The list of so called tortures went on and on.

The more u thought about it, the angrier I became. Nobody on the world must be having such a lousy life! I got out of bed and started pacing around in the room in a temper. A pale, sulky tear streaked down my face with messy hair staring at me from the mirror. I scowled another horrid thing about my life, my ugly looks. My thick rimmed glasses and awful railway tracks! I just could not wait till I could get rid if them! I wish I was as pretty as the sweet valley Twins or had an interesting life like Nancy Drew. I remember how my Mother had torn my beloved novels to shreds. The fantasies brought more tears to my eyes and I stomped about in the room a little more till I finally retired to bed exhausted, falling asleep almost instantly.

10 years later
The cell-phone beeped and a message flashed on the screen. It was Dad;
"Dad's message"

"Life and death are in the hands of Allah alone. I humbly seek forgiveness for all mistakes and injustice on my part. May Allah keep us and our progeny on Imaan (faith) and maybe He keep us steadfast on Kitabullah (Allah's book) & Sunnate Rasoolullah SAWS till the day of Qiyamah. (The day of judgment ) I love you for the sake of Allah. Fi-amanillah*

Tears rolled down my eyes uncontrollably blurring my vision as I tried to stifle my sobs. My mind was whirling for the past few weeks my life had been a roller coaster ride. I thought back to how it all started. About four months ago my father had a transchemic attack. One side of his body had become numb. It lasted for less than a minute but had left his body totally drained. My grandparents insisted he go to a neurologist in India after ramadhan itikaaf.

The neurologist gave him medication but after returning to Mpulungu, he experienced another attack. At first he ignored it, thinking that with time the medication would do it's job but the attacks became too frequent and longer lasting.

He came to Lusaka where a color Doppler showed signs of blockages in his arteries. The chance of a paralyzing stroke were very high. He was told to ho to South Africa immediately for a vascular surgery. As he boarded the plane, he sent this very heart wrenching message.

The tears were flowing fast. I could feel my niqaab (veil) getting wet..."Life and death are in the hands of Allah alone." What if The surgery wasn't successful? What if? I couldn't bear to think of it... I couldn't imagine life without my Dad... he was my father, my best friend, my guide, my teacher, my counselor, my mentor..He had taught me everything I knew in life... Memories began to flash in my mind.. little me trying unsuccessfully to ride a bike, my Dad laughing with me and patiently teaching me how to pedal, little me proudly carrying a five sipara (five chapter ) Quran to learn sabaq (lesson ) by him....

Running to cry in his lap after having a fight with my younger sister... and then his stories about how 1st horns always have to be stronger and more responsible... my illness as a child...Dad sitting at my bedside night after night... taking me to different hospitals.. involountary tears shining in his eyes as he would watch me squirm with pain... his worried yet comforting hug as I was taken to the operation theater... patiently joking trying to make me smile through my tantrums... I walked further down the line... his medical ways of explaining physics, math and chemistry... making the impossible seem peanuts...

His constant reprimanding on watching TV and my constant ignoring... I couldn't stop crying... how could I have been so ungrateful? Why hadn't I appreciated him when I had the time? Oh Allah! Grant my Dad health and bring him back to us safe and sound....

His wise decision to move to Mpulungu... a barren land in the middle of nowhere... seemingly so far away from civilisation and my anger at him for pulling me away from my friends 'my life' ...his continuous never ending efforts to bring Islam back to the hearts of people whose generations had been Muslims but didn't even know the Kalimah...his hatred for racism...his furry at even the slightest racist remark from us...his emphasis on respect and behavior... he truly is and will always be 1 in a million....
I thought back on how reluctant he was to let me study in Pakistan when the political situation there had been in such a turmoil... his letters to me there we're full of warm advice making my day....our reunion after 4 years and my wedding soon after that... I could hear his voice in my mind as he sand the nazam (Islamic nasheed without music ) he himself had written for me as he handed me over to my husband's care....his excitement when he first heard he was becoming a Nana(grand father from mother's side )... then coming every morning coming to see his grandson... making him pray all his morning duas as I smiled from my bed....

My chest tightened as I remember him shaking his head in finality as he held Muhammad the very last time... his immediate patience and his lips murmuring the same words the Propthet sallal lahu alaihi wasallam to his dear daughter Zainab (RA) at the demise of her baby, "inna lillahi maa akahza, walahu maa a'ta.. " (Surely, to Allah belongs what he takes, and to Allah belongs what he gives) his undying care and support for me after that...
The car stopped but I was barley aware... in a daze I came out, unlocked the house door, rushed to my bed room letting the tears flow freely...as I had done 10 years ago... this time they were tears of repetence and remorse... sheer tear of gratitude... May Allah give such a wonderful father to everyone.