They say, “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”
They say, “Time heals all wounds.”
They say, “people can be replaced.”
True, there are some people who can be replaced. There are some wounds that can be healed with time. Life does give us better rays of hope. But what if you lose the person you loved most? What if you know that the person who left you will never come back? What if you know the person who is now gone can never be replaced?
Death is a wound time can never heal – a person who can never be replaced. But as they say, “God takes away His favorite people very soon.”
Mother – the inspiration of every child’s life. Her smile makes us smile. Her tears make us cry. Her pain is our pain. Her motivation is our boost. Her love is our power. A relationship that has no alternatives, a bond that cannot be replaced.
Wasi Hassan, a young, dedicated man who lost his mother, his best friend and his everything two and a half months ago.
While you read Wasi’s story, keep in mind that he has a message for all those who are struggling to deal with the loss of someone.
My Mother – A Sheep in the World Full Of Wolves
“In the world full of wolves, a sheep rarely survives. Within my household, I saw my mother become a wolf. A shield and a voice for all of us. My dad was ice, she was fire. My dad was freshly made cheese, she was a hardened rock.
I saw her design party wear for children throughout my childhood to pay for our tuition. All of my siblings studied at the best institutes in the city. She silently taught us many things. Never bow down to anyone. Fight on. If you don’t fight for your rights, you’re never gonna get them.
She taught me to keep an eye out for the vultures. She instilled ethics in me. She made us look up to the good our father has in him. She made us look up to the good she had in her. During the two decades of growing up in financial constraints, never did I ever hear her complain.”
I Was Her Confidant – She Was My Everything
“I was her confidant, her advisor. I used to find my comfort in her. I was friends with her. She was in literal sense “my everything” – from business advice to personal advice, I took everything from her. She used to consult with me regarding every single decision. It was beautiful.
We had our differences. One minute we’d be fighting; the next minute, I’d be sneaking up behind her and tickling her till she couldn’t laugh anymore.”
Ishq – The Purest Form of Love a Mother Has For His Son
A lot of times we hear that the love of our parents has no match to the love we get from other people.
There was this one time we were sitting at the dining table and she asked me, “Kissay naal ishq kitta aey?” I said no. She said, “May tay kitta aey”. I was confused and asked “Kidday naal”. She said, “Teray naal”
The most express form of love, the love of a mother. Heaven lies underneath her feet – her heart is pure – her love is pure – the same love that can never fade away; even when that person leaves us forever.
She Was a Fighter, She Was a Warrior
10:08 am 20th July – The Time When My Life Changed
About a year and a half ago, she was diagnosed with failed kidneys. I had moved to Dubai and the treatment started. Never for once during her treatment I heard her complain. She always used to re-assure me that she’s fine. “Ab bemari to hay na Wasi, isko may lay k to nhe baith skti”. Taking care of the household and the kitchen was still in her everyday routine.
She went through a minor surgery in May. I rushed back home immediately and oversaw her surgery. We spent three days at the hospital. She wasn’t allowed to eat or drink for three days. I used to spend my nights with her and sleep during the day.
Those three days turned her from a physically strong woman to a very weak and fragile shadow of her own self. I was there, I saw her losing hope.
Despite being on dialysis for over a year, she had never lost hope. She never lost hope. I saw her giving up. I told her not to give up. I told her that “she was a fighter. She was a warrior.”
18th July, 2016 – A Calm, Strange Smile That Wasn’t Complaining About Anything
The soul of every wedding. The soul of every gathering. The soul of the house. My soul.
I stayed in the country as her health wasn’t getting back to its best. It was very erratic at best. 100% one day and down to 10% the other. But she recovered. She became better to the point where she started to cook again. During the last 5 days of her life, I remember her making me breakfast every single day. A very strange, calm smile on her face. Sitting in the midst of all of us. She was always in the midst of everything.
She Was a Fighter, She was a Warrior
20th July, 2016
I woke up to see her shivering with high fever. After wrapping her up in several blankets, we drove her to the hospital which was right down our street. The doctors gave her some injections, the fever went down. She started sweating profusely. There was this strange fear in her eyes despite several re-assurances that “Aap bilkul theek hain. Apko kuch nhe hua. Bukhaar utar gya hay. Abhi ghar chalay jaen gay bus doctor aa jaey 9 bjay”. She was restless. I was blowing air on her with her medical file as she fell asleep.
For a son whose mother has been in pain for hours, to see that she finally is at peace is a great relief. My dad sent me home to eat. I reluctantly went. He went inside the ER to see her. She woke up and asked to change beds. On being offered help, she refused. She walked from one bed to another and fell asleep again.
I got a call from my father asking me to rush to the hospital. Upon arriving, I see that the doors of the ER are locked. I asked them to let me in, they didn’t. My first sight inside the ER was a doctor pumping my mother’s heart while an assistant holding oxygen mask over her face.
I Was the Son of a Fighter and My Mother Was Fighting
My world turned upside down, I stayed calm, and I was the son of a fighter, a warrior. They were applying every last minute protocols they had to her, and I stood there watching. Trembling from head to toe as my siblings peaked from the windows. I signaled to them that she is okay. She was fighting, she was not giving up. She wasn’t going down without a fight.
But I lost her.
She used to say to me, “Jadun may marr jawan gee, tay tu sub tu zyada rowain da” (when I’d die, you’d cry the most).
“I am sorry…aapki walida ka inteqal hogaya hai” – I had never imagined that I’d get to hear these words in my life.
I Couldn’t Mourn
My brother and my sister started yelling and crying. I couldn’t. Somebody had to control them. Holding them both close to me, I had to drag them out of the hospital.
I couldn’t mourn. The next few hours were spent in making arrangements for the body to be placed at the mortuary. I lifted her body for the first time at the hospital into the ambulance. I couldn’t mourn. I lifted her body for the second time at the mortuary. I couldn’t mourn. I came back home. Hordes of friends and relatives were over, mourning. I couldn’t mourn. My siblings were glancing at me every other minute. I couldn’t let me see me mourn. I wouldn’t let them see me mourn.
The burial was the following morning. I lifted her body for the third time for the bath. I couldn’t mourn. I lifted her body for the fourth time to take it to the Imam Bargah for namaz-e-janazah. I couldn’t mourn. I carried her to the graveyard. I couldn’t mourn. I lowered her into her grave. I couldn’t mourn.
I buried her under heaps of soil. I couldn’t mourn. Every time I was about to break down, I saw my younger brother staring at me. I saw my sister with questions in her eyes. I couldn’t mourn. I couldn’t mourn at the nights because people would get up to check on us if we were crying. I couldn’t mourn during the day because all I used to hear all day was “Sabr kro baita”.
I came back home from my village. The girl I love was there for me the whole time. I couldn’t mourn in front of her. I needed my solace to mourn. I needed an empty hill to climb on top of and cry my lungs out. I needed a secluded house to scream and shout and cry till the tears dry and blood comes out. I couldn’t get that. I couldn’t mourn. It has been two and a half months, and I haven’t mourned.
I Live every day and Miss her every day
It is very difficult it is to live after her. Every day is a constant reminder of her absence in the household and how difficult it is to manage all the responsibilities of the house.
I’ve become more caring towards my siblings and family. Secondly, all the personal goals I had for myself aren’t personal anymore. Everything I want to do in life is for her.
There’s no alternative to a parent, especially a mother. If you’ve lost someone, please find peace in the fact that it was Allah’s will and his promise of taking them back.
If you have come this far, please recite Surah Fateha for Wasi’s mother.