Return

I could not have been at a better place than Edgware Road tonight; as I listened to the voicemail my mum left me, as I heard the words, "Call me back, it's serious', I knew what had happened.  Standing in the middle of Edgware Road, receiving the news of my Grandma's death, seeing people enjoy life, wasting it away here, I could see the stark reality of everything, of life and its purpose; it was all laid out there in front of me.

Jiddah, as I called her, wasn't very well for the past month or so, and she went into hospital this morning, falling into a coma after her heart failed.  For a while now she's said she wanted to die and to meet her Creator, with the past few weeks particularly painful for her.  It's so sad thinking back to all the special moments in my life that involved her, no longer going to happen.  Even though she was miles away in Algeria, we always used to send home videos of ourselves saying hi to her. I remember the time when I first met her since I was two, and the amount of love and care she showed me, a part of whom is inside me, treating the son of her eldest son so preciously.  I didn't need to spend years with her to know of the unconditional love she had for us all.  I remember how the wrinkles in her face so perfectly defined themselves whenever she smiled, which was everytime I walked into her room and sat down next to her.  Every morning I used to have breakfast with her, and she sat on her bed with her fan shooing the flies away from me.

We don't exactly know her age as records weren't kept during the colonisation of Algeria, and neither could she read, but she was extremely wise, probably as with most elderly people, solving family disputes and giving her many opinions on the world from her small window-viewing bed.  I hear the family out in Algeria are extremely shocked and upset at her death; she's been there for them all their lives, and it will probably be a while before 'mum's room' becomes just another room.  It will be a very difficult night and morning for them, and my dad. We can only pray that she's met her creator and waiting for us on the other side.

It must be a terrible feeling when you lose your own mother, the one who went through the process of carrying you, staying awake for you, worrying about you; a bond you will find no stronger elsewhere.  That's why this has taught me to value the mother I still have even more.

To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return.