Death. PURE. Simple. Death.

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

What I share today is very personal, I make duah Allah use it for his glory, insh'Allah.

I remember when my dear friend asked me to prepare her body for burial; she knew she was dying, and everyone else believed she was just being a little melodramatic. But pass away she did, and a promise pulled out of me, left me with fear and trepidation. No-one knew of my promise so I guess if I hadn't honoured it, no-one but I would know because my beloeved sister could no longer speak. But Allah would know, and my fear for HIM and my love for my sister was greater than my fear of "corpses" and coming face to face with death.

I had seen death before; my best friend passed away from cancer when I was in my last year of school - we were both catholic at the time, she a young convert from buddhism. She asked me at the time to "help her", to relieve her pain, essentially to put her out of her misery. She looked like a corpse already, she could barely breathe much less talk and her eyes had this depth as though the grave was already inside her. Seeing her in her coffin, surrounded by her wordly "treasures", at an age of 19, dressed in her little white baptismal dress, she was simply a lifeless body. There was nothing that reminded me of the Daphne I knew. I kissed her forehead, she was cold. But there was no "she" because "She" was gone. There was just this empty replica, blueish grey, made up to look like her.

I dreaded seeing her body because I knew how long it took me to get over Daphne's passing, the trauma, the tears, that lifeless thing that resembled her lying in that box. I remember the smell of formaldehyde - Daphne had used it to strengthen her nails at one point and now it literally ran in her veins.

My Fathima Moola passed away and I received the news one morning before I left for work. I didn't make it to work and instead found myself driving to her sisters, struggling against myself, my fears, and my promise. In my mind I just saw her smiling face saying "I'm Lastig! (naughty) but I want you to PROMISE you'll prepare my body. I don't have a daughter but YOU are my daughter that Allah has given me" At the time I'd thought it would be many years before I had to fulfill that promise and I could still convince her I didn't have to. "This is my last lesson for you, the only thing I can give you of myself that no-one else can teach you because only you are you and only I am me. I won't tell anyone of your promise I leave it with YOU and ALLAH. He will know" she had said. I drove, and reached, and shakingly told her sister. "I lost my sister, now you are my sister!" she wept, holding me "You must go, its important."

And so I did. We followed all the prescribed steps, and the fear when I initially saw her dissipated, replaced by love. I felt her with me, I knew that this truly WAS her gift to me because there is only one me and only one her, and no-one could take my place; each one had their own place, their own lesson, and I felt in that moment how Allah uses one situation to of death to teach us how to live. Once they had lain her down, there were greetings. They greeted her with such love, and I found myself doing the same, feeling that she was right there, watching us, smiling, enjoying our respect, the kindness of our words, the loving way one person might speak to her while holding her hand or another person might kiss her cheek. It is prescribed that the body of the beloved be covered at all times , our hands working beneath the towels to clean and wash and them perfume her; all the time prayers are recited, and we get to say quietly all those things we wish we could've said. It is as though there is no veil between life and death at that time, there is no separation. She is there, with us, we feel her soul around us and we have the confirmation of her body that she WAS here. And all those things she taught each of us are suddenly cemented. And all those things she may have said or done that were in any way negative are forgiven, completely, and forgotten, and all we wish is that she will forgive us for wherever we may have gone wrong with her. It is a reunion as much as a fond "see you soon" and if I live to be a thousand I will never, ever forget the beauty, the tenderness, the peacefulness and the closure of that day. THAT is the way I want to say goodbye, with loved ones around me, the truth of life and death naked and me covered, respected even my death to such a point that no cold words, no cold walls, no cold hands and not even cold water touches me. Instead, I too want to feel the warmth and love and kindness of too many people wanting to give this gift of final respect.

I cannot explain better than this. That is how I want to be prepared.

And then, back at the house, we her family got to see her face and she was peaceful, a beautiful smile on her face, as though she were dreaming the sweetest dream. Her body was not icy and bluish and cold and she wore no make-up that strained against her skin as had Daphne years ago. She was almost warm to the touch, she was radiant, and she was ready to say goodbye.

Yet when she left, the knowing that she would soon be laying on her side, covered in earth, the weight of her past upon her made me realise how short life is. Too short to waste with people who just aren't worth it, who cause us to sin, or cause us to grieve. LIFE should be lived in Allah's honour, and if someone is cause for continuous anger, then that someone is better served spiritually if we walk away. Life should be about loving, about preparing for that day when the scent of camphor and frankinsence fill the air, when the buckets and the gloves are passed by loving hands as loving tongues pray for our soul and our peace, and forgive us for all the tiny stuff we may have done. Life should be about death, how we prepare for it, about leaving behind all baggage and uncessary people before they become nooses around our necks on that day.

LIFE goes beyond death, and so LIFE should be lived in the knowing that this day WILL come. WHere will you be? In a drawer in a hospital? In the fire of cremation, watching? I can only imagine the horror for the soul that has to see that. It must be like dying twice. We think we know, we think we're okay with it, with whatever may happen to the body, but after my Fathima, I want to be a muslim until I die, and then beyond. Insh'Allah Ameen. oh Allah, grant Fathima the best of Paradise, Jannat ul Firdous. Look not upon her sin but upon this gift she gave me, and if you reward her a thousand times over it will be too little. And if you reward her a thousand times over then let her sins whatever they are be washed away. Insh'Allah. Ameen.

If this has moved you at all, I invite you to watch the following two youTube videos.
The first, is in homage to my Nabi, through whom and because of whom I have been given such a humbling gift as to be a muslimah..




The second, is in homage to all the readers, who, like me, will live, and die, and be returned to HIM who created the heavens and the earth and everything in between. I hope it moves you as it moved me.

Isabella - Review

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

One of the most thought provoking books I read in the early days of my journey to Islam was "Isabella". Today I post a Review of Isabella (latest publication listed as Isabella - A Girl of Muslim Spain)

The english translation was not the best and so I found myself at times questioning the story itself simply because the english was poor. However, having finally gone through the book, I was left exhilirated by the gems, the truths, the pictures and images it left with me. To this day, 8 years later, I am still in love with this little gem. It is a must read for anyone interested in comparative religion.

Isabella is the story of a young girl, the daughter of a religious leader of the time, who happens to overhear two muslim men having a discussion. The discussion sparks a question in her which she seeks to answer, a question which leads her straight to a dark night of the soul in which she questions her own existance, her beliefs, and her community. It is a story which will not leave its reader unchallenged, whatever the background.

For readers who want to check it out and possibly read a little (or most) of the book, there is a blogger who has started typing up much of the book, particularly those sections which make one think. The blogger is Haqq Islam.

PLEASE NOTE: This is not a review of the blogsite, just of the book.

The extract below is from http://www.haqislam.org/articles/stories/isabella-a-girl-of-muslim-spain/ (all credit to the author). You may click on the chapter links to read portions of the book : "Isabella".

Contents:  (http://www.haqislam.org/articles/stories/isabella-a-girl-of-muslim-spain/ )

• Ch 1: In a Luscious Garden
• Ch 2: An Important Question
• Ch 3: A Letter
• Ch 4: The First Meeting
• Ch 5: The Second Meeting
• Ch 6: The Third Round
• Ch 7: Meeting of the Men of Allah
• Ch 8: Behind the Curtain
• Ch 9: Inside the House
• Ch 10: Inside Knowledge
• Ch 11: Test of Faith
• Ch 12: Isabella’s Prayer
• Ch 13: A Conspiracy
• Ch 14: A Complete Change
• Ch 15: Princess of France
• Ch 16: A Secret Meeting
• Ch 17: Duty of Islamic Government
• Ch 18: A White Lie
• Ch 19: Islam, the Perfect and True Religion