sunday
29th november 2020
11:46 pm

i am currently seated alone in my room while i type this, and it makes me feel like this is a bad idea and i should've been in a place that wasn't so deserted, that didn't reek so much of unsaid words, loneliness and a heavy silence. but what do i do when i don't know how to do anything else?

this book has become like a diary for me ever since i began writing it, mostly because i do not know where else to go dump all of this. i do not know who to say this to in the hopes that maybe they'll actually make sense of my words, and maybe, just maybe, understand me.

perhaps that is why we shouldn't look for compassion in anyone else but Allah. because we as humans falter and err, and our biggest error is in looking for understanding in another human who is just as faulty as ourselves.

and someone who can leave just as easily. who could breathe their last breath, who could say their last word, and then gracefully let go of their soul. i wish we didn't attach ourselves to humans so faithfully, so lovingly, so compassionately. i wish we had the choice to lock up our hearts in cages and throw away the keys, to lock the doors and shut everyone out, just so we wouldn't hurt the way we do and cry in pain the way we do. but we're social animals, aren't we? we love, don't we? we either scream in happiness or in pain, either cry with joy or despair, either love or get our hearts shattered. and there's nothing we can do about it.

when i began my hiatus from wattpad on the 31st of october, i had a lot of things planned for all the time i'd be getting off-writing two short stories, focusing on university work, getting a good gpa, lots of time for ibadah. i was happy i'd get to spend so much time FOR myself, but do our fates tell us before they are executed?

no, of course not, because my grandma died the night of a monday in early november.

i was moving around the house collecting stuff i needed for my class on tuesday, a little sleepy but still functioning. i had just come downstairs from my room when i noticed my mum frantically speaking to my grandmother, asking her to stay awake. i walked into the room and that's when my mum handed me her phone, asking me to call my dad while she was patting dado's cheeks and trying to get her to drink water. dado was still alive at the time. mum called my aunt who lived five minutes away, and as soon as she arrived, she began crying because she knew what was going to happen. we all knew. my mom tried keeping my dado awake, but deep down she knew it too.

dado died while in prayer, while she was in wudhu, right after she had said allahu akbar to her isha prayer.

and you know, i wasn't very spectacularly close to my dado. we didn't talk much at all except when me or my siblings would help her with her wudhu, prayer, or anything else she asked us to do. she was 90+ and had opinions that sometimes angered me. she spoke about things that didn't existed in the timeline she was living in, and she expected us to follow through on it all as well. during the time she was alive and well, sat in her room reading her daily adhkar, it was so difficult to genuinely, sincerely think good of her. even if she was my blood grandmother and i was merely an extension of her, she never appealed to me.

but the day she died, with the most minuscule smile on her face and the expanse of it so bright and filled with noor, wrapped up in a white cloth i would one day myself be in, was the day did i truly realize it-none of it mattered. my jealousy over how much she favored my other cousins, my annoyance, my anger, that day NONE of it mattered. i sat by her lifeless body and wished for it all to go away, for her to wake up and ask me why i was crying. but she didn't.

i never got the opportunity to tell her that the tears falling down my face were more of regret than anguish. that i regretted every single choice i made to not be there for her.

and it so happened that in that one moment of pure regret, i came upon a startling realization-nothing matters after they die. after they breathe their last. not the grudges you held against them, not the words they said that unintentionally hurt you, not the prejudices in your heart. when they're not there anymore, you won't remember what they said to or what they didn't. you'll only remember all the good times they made you laugh and smile, the times they supported you and the times that engraved themselves into your mind. you'll remember everything good about them, and nothing bad. you eyes will finally open up to the light.

and then the guilt will come rushing in, as it did with me. the day of the funeral, i didn't cry. not even a teardrop. while my mother, sister, aunts and relatives couldn't control themselves. i felt bad for not crying, but there was nothing i could do. i didn't feel their anguish because i didn't love her like they did. i only regretted what i didn't do.

i don't regret any of the regret i feel. i know i deserve to feel it. she was the reason my father was still standing strong, Allah's Mercy and her prayers were the reason i returned home safely every time i left. and she wasn't there to pray for me any more.

if they hurt you and they die, you'll hurt even more. you'll wish you'd have forgiven them because life is so short and it's not worth it to keep grudges. you'll wish you never had the grudge.

if there's someone in your family you're angry at, someone you've fought with, someone you don't want to be with, stop it.

for Allah's sake, STOP IT. it's not worth it. and if you think you'll be quite satisfied after they die, you won't. the ghost of regret will always haunt you. you'll never be okay, because you'll wish you'd had spent more time with them, that you should not have behaved so recklessly, that deep down you really loved them and why you lost them. what you feel for them right now is NOT real, and please do not come at me saying it is.

i PROMISE you, you will regret this. no matter who it is, a long lost friend, a relative, a sibling or a parent, END IT. IT'S NOT REAL.

i disliked my own BLOOD grandmother. my father's mother. i thought i couldn't dislike her more, but i was wrong. because i dislike myself more than i ever disliked her. i've been there. i know. and no matter how bad things get, you can always go back. it may not be the same as before, and of course it won't be, but that doesn't mean it has to be bad forever. you can go back. you can STILL go back. that friend you've had a disagreement with, or that relative you're mad at.

because i swear, once they die, you can't go back.

and it'll be that way forever.