Rather than counting the days to an impending big event that we could hardly wait for, it would be more productive to do anything other than counting the days –because it would be an extremely tortuous, barbaric ordeal even if u start thinking about it.
Therefore, you don’t deal with it – about going back home in grueling five days, which, if you ask me, felt like five thousand years. Seriously.
Instead, you listen to the music, listen to the melodious Quran recitation by Ghamidi, hum your favorite tunes, watch some TV with some stories about some maids making it big in Manhattan, studying for the upcoming exams…hmm, sometimes it amazes me how something could be on such a differing priority to one person than another. Puh-leaze…tell me about it. [“_”]
A couple of days ago, while perusing a May 2007 issue of RD, I stumbled upon this touching account of dealing with the loss of a child killed by one of the family members – of course, accidentally. There were two families featured. The first one was a sixteen month old toddler boy who was killed instantly while his grandfather was backing away the family’s SUV, while the second one was a two year old girl, tragically killed the same way, by her father. In the end of the feature, the author pointed out the underlying causes of the incidents – less attention given to wandering children, and larger blind spots of SUVs. I could not help but thought that, something substantial was missing from the picture, like, the role of fate, living and dying. But then again, maybe the main aim of the article was to point out the limitations of a vehicle and absent-minded parents forgetting their little children? Possibly.
I looked at their faces – the fallen little angels, with all their futures and wonderful lives still ahead of them. And of their parents’s. And I wondered, ‘Would I be devastated had I been the one killing, albeit unintentionally, my own baby, in such a reckless, callous way?’ And I thought, ‘Yes, I would be. Terribly.’ Oh God, it was just a baby. A baby. Tiny cherubic angel being crushed under the tires after being knocked down by the rear of a vehicle. The enormous weight was enough to flatten his delicate head and squash all his intestines out.
In the article, moments after the incident, after his wife called, asking him to come home immediately, the father of the perished toddler arrived home with his father-in-law in fetal position on the ground, sobbing, while his wife was holding their baby in a towel. At first he thought, maybe she was nursing the baby. And then, he walked closer, and his wife cried out “He’s dead. Don’t look at him. Just remember how he was.”
Don’t look at him.
Just remember how he was.
I cried on the spot.
Humans are unique in so many ways. But grieving the heartrending, untimely death of a child is not unique to humans. Even animals do that, though in their own way. The only difference between us and them is that we accept it as a tribulation from God, who is constantly teaching and reminding us to become patient souls who could persevere in the face of a calamity, guiding us to become much closer to him, as we pour our grief and bereavement to Him in our many prayers and supplications.
We could love, with all our hearts; but sometimes the Love of God just exceeds a human’s extent of love. Therefore, in loving (and missing) a departed child, we should love He who is more Loving.
Only then, the child knows that he is truly missed and loved, in the heavens, always.
And he shall without doubt, miss and love us back.
From the heavens…Always.
Hugs & kisses for my future angels,
~ Mommy dearest ~