“GRIEF”
noun:
Intense sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.
During the course of each person’s life, they must experience grief one way or another.
The average human experiences a few different stages of grief ranging from the loss of a dear possession, job, pet, friendship or any kind of relationship, death of a loved one or even a major change in one’s life.
Grief is a natural response to loss, according to Wikipedia, and it doesn’t just affect us emotionally, but also physically, mentally, socially, spiritually, culturally, as well as a few other dimensions.
Each human deals with grief in their own way.
Some express their grief by feeling down; crying, not being able to cry at all, feeling numb to everything around, feeling angry, becoming violent or even having a sense of relief.
Some respond in ways that may seem dysfunctional to others, such as laughing or having any kind of celebratory response, which to some extent is still within the normal range of responses.
Some resort to isolating and withdrawing themselves from all social interactions.
Some present actual symptoms such as frequent headaches, lack of sleeping or oversleeping, loss of appetite or trying to eat their pain away, anxiety, fatigue, lack of focus, etc…
Some resort to substance using or abusing; be it drugs, alcohol, smoking, etc., while some feel depressed to the point of harming themselves or ending their own lives.
When I think of the word “grief”, I think of June 28th 2017; the day I lost you, a loved one.
Faint memories still haunt me, of the day this world lost a beautiful mind while heaven gained an angel. The background sound of Quran being read by someone who loves you, desperately begging Allah for mercy as that was all one could do at such a helpless moment, interrupted by the scared and rapid sniffs of the tearful beings who cherish you.
I remember looking deep in your eyes, as I made sure you were breathing, and I knew that the end was near. I saw mixed feelings of hope, relief, unease, fear of the unknown and silent screams of pain yearning for the suffering to end, but then again maybe I was seeing my own reflection in your eyes.
Leaning closer towards you, I started to whisper words in your ear, as my shivering hands fought with the end.
“You are the strongest man I know. There is nothing you can not overcome. You are going to be okay. You are going to fight this right till the end. You are going to be okay. You will prevail. In life or beyond, you will prevail. I love you. I am right here. We are all right here. You are not alone.”
I recall your tired eyes closing for a few seconds and a tear escaping the corner of your eye as I kissed your forehead.
“He will inshAllah be okay,” I reassured everyone, then faced the wall so no one could see the helpless tears fall down my cheeks.
“Do not cry, you are strong,” the nurse quietly pat on my back, almost exposing my weak crying to others in the room. That was a lie. I was anything but strong. I was terrified and helpless.
“Let me hold the oxygen mask for a bit and go get some rest.”
Was she crazy?
I was not going to leave you.
Memories blur to the moment they took you to the ambulance, and you left the house you have worked so hard to build from the ground up, for the very last time, alive.
Then fast forward to the ambulance; claustrophobia at its finest.
Flashbacks of me hugging you from behind to hold you in place. The ambulance was very shaky, almost as if it was trembling with fear and anxiety.
Grandfather, the words I said were to reassure us both.
“I am right here. I love you so much. You will be okay.”
I remember it seemed like the ride went on for ages and we would never get to the hospital.
“You always told me how I was the only grandchild of yours whose birth you’ve attended and it made me smile every time. You always brought us white chocolate from your travels and laughed your contagious laugh loudly whenever we told you to smile for a photo. You have so many grandchildren who adore and look up to you. Your children love you dearly. You are everything to them. We all love you very much.”
The second they broke our hug and rushed you to the ER, it felt like everything else broke as well.
All any of us could really do at that moment was pray; pray hard, like we’ve never prayed before.
I prayed for you until I reached a conviction,
“Whatever happens is for the best.”
So that when I held your hand for the last time, and when I finally heard the doctor quietly utter the 3 earth-shattering words, “Time of death,” I immediately thought, “We belong to Allah and to Him we shall return.”
For we are nothing but temporary beings roaming this earth for a certain period of time, after which we return to our Maker, to whom we belong. You were finally returning home.
As I let go of your hand, I remember thinking, “You were there at my birth, and I am here at your death.”
Going back to your home but not finding you there in your favorite chair, reading the newspaper with a half-full cup of water, the remote and a handkerchief perfectly organized on the table next to you…felt wrong.
Where did you go?
Even the air in your house felt empty.
But I was determined to stay strong, like you, I was not going to break, for I owed that much to my strong, sad mother and my heartbroken kin.
As you once again left your home, this time for good, I felt like I was starting to lose control as my entire body quivered with despair and sound refused to escape my lips.
“Please, come back!” was all I could think at that tragic moment as I saw them carry you out of your own house wrapped up in white, but I knew for a fact that my wish was impossible. Nevertheless, my thoughts still silently screamed your name.
Suddenly, appearing out of thin air, my father’s safe and much-needed embrace along with the comforting yet deep words he softly spoke in my ear,
“It is better to pray for him than be sad for him, because out of all those crying, miserable people, he is the happiest. He is relieved, finally rid of all the pain and finally at peace. Don’t be sad for the dead, be sad for the living.”
He quickly disappeared to escort my beloved grandfather to his final resting bed, but his words echoed for days to come.
“Goodbye, my loving grandfather, may you finally find the peace you deserve. May you be in a much better place; smiling, happy, reunited with all the loved ones you’ve lost and rid of the world’s pain.
Thank you for everything. Thank you for being my grandfather & friend for 23 years and not giving me a single bad memory of you. Thank you for how I still randomly remember your comments, stories, various incidents and genuinely laugh from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you for making the most of your time on earth and being an inspiration to all of us. Thank you for putting up a fight and never giving up.
Thank you for the memories, the inspiring lust for knowledge, the life lessons, the books, the jokes, the songs and the poems. Thank you for each time you smiled and made this world a better place.”
Now I realize that there is no right, specific way to grieve and there is definitely no way out of it.
However, the only cure for grief is to grieve.
For the past few months, I haven’t been able to write a single word, as writing is a form of acceptance and it sure took me a while to finally accept the reality of a world without you.
However, today, on the date of your birth, I write, as acceptance is the final stage of grief.
Today I realize that grief is a price to pay for love, and I sure do love you; always & forever.
Rest In Peace, beloved ❤️