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.

Happy Islamic New Year!

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


Tonight, the 14th of November 2012, marks the Islamic New Year. The Islamic Calendar is a Lunar Calendar. It is a time when the new year commences. How apt, then, I think it is, to speak of the passing of the year and how quickly time flies. How quickly, indeed, life flies. When we least expect it, it's over. Islam is not a faith that ignores death or lives in denial of it. If anything, death is seen as a part of life, an inevitable closure in the many chapters of each person's existance.

Today, in celebration of life, I want to talk about death. Yes, that's right. I've thought about it and that's what I want to talk about, because I believe that how someone dies is reflective of how they lived, but how they are treated by muslims UPON death is reflective of ISLAM..


My idea of death now that I am muslim is so very different to when I was not. I lost my grandfather when I was young, and after that quite a few family members and friends. My best friend passed away from cancer in my last year of schooling. Death was traumatic. When I first reverted to Islam (came to Islam, coverted to Islam), my dear friend and sister, Fathima Moola was ill. She became progressively ill, and told me that as a child her mother had requested she, Fathima, tend to her body upon her demise. Fathima then proceeded to ask me, as "the child she never had" if I would be there to tend to her body when she passed away.  I was shocked!! I couldn't, at the time, imagine anything more horrific. A dead body? And that too of someone I loved?? No, no, no! Seeing my friend in my last year of senior schooling lying in that coffin had been so traumatic, how would I face seeing - no - touching - the body of this dear friend who was like a mother to me? After much rebutting, I had no choice but to agree, thinking she would recover and I wouldn't have to face that anytime soon.

But the time to face my fears came sooner than I thought. Within just over 3 years, Fathima would pass away. I remembered my promise to her, and although I grappled against it, I finally summoned up the courage to call up her sister and told her of my promise.

In Islamic communities, death is a community affair. Deaths are broadcast so that anyone who hears might pray for the one who has passed and the family who stays behind. Anyone who knew the person will usually flock to the place of the "Mayet" (where the goodbyes are said and prayers are done) and in this case the numbers were massive - Fathima was dearly loved.

I drove an hour to the venue of the "ghusl" or body preparation, which to me looked like a hall, and was greeted with as much warmth by the women as always despite the sorrow (if not more). There were no men there, since this was the passing of a woman. I was led, along with a small group of close family, to a room which looked like any "ghusl room". Usually, these rooms have a surgery-type metalic bed with a water catchment area beneath it. The women busied themselves preparing the annoitment water, praying for the deceased. The room filled with the fragrance of (real, not synthetic) myrrh, frankincense, and camphor. In these preparations, usually hot water is poured over the "bed" to ensure the comfort of the deceased, as we muslims believe that the soul hovers near, and the body "feels".

Many things are known concerning the miracles that happen during ghusl, or preparation for burial. It is advised that we not speak of the dead or the events wether good or bad, so for the purposes of this explanation I will limit myself as far as possible to the ritual aspect and my personal feelings. Once the body arrives, only women touch a women's body and only men will touch a man's. The body is gently taken by the family of women or men from its container and placed upon the surgical bed. At this point it is usually still wrapped from the morgue and before it is unwrapped those present put on their surgical gloves and the dear one is covered in soft towels to ensure the privacy of the deceased. All this time, praying is taking place, and those present speak to the deceased as though alive, telling them all the wonderful things they feel about that person, taking the opportunity to say goodbye, sometimes kissing the hands or the face. There's always someone who stays near the face, speaking to the deceased, words of peace and love and kindness.

The wrapping is removed as prayers are recited by all those present, taking great care not to expose the aura of the person. In other words, that which a muslim ought to cover in life, remains covered in death. For a woman, it is the body from neck to ankles to wrists. For a man, it is from the navel to the knee. Working under the towels, the family washes the dear one carefully, with the softest sponges or cloths or their very own hands, gently and respectfully as you would with someone beloved and highly respected. Different prayers are recited as the deceased family member is gently seated up so that the bowels are emptied automatically and the excess washed away with warm water. Only the closest family member will ensure the cleanliness of private parts, and all the time these remain covered. Anyone present is encouraged to look away, respectfully, and to soothe the beloved one with words of kindness, love and respect.

Once thoroughly cleaned (including ears, nose, mouth) and prayers spoken and words of love shared, those present also reminisce with the dear one and sometimes with one another, remembering always the good things, again kindly and with words of love and well wishes. It is time to perfume the dear one and this is done by each person present. Usually, an expert is on hand who takes the lead and guides the family or friends in what and how to perform the ghusl (bath) for burial. Once perfumed, the white sheets known as Kaffan are brought. These are new, crisp, and perfectly white. There are specific instructions for wrapping or shrouding the dear one, and this is where a leader is very helpful. It is important that as the wrapping takes place, no part of the body is exposed which would, in life, be disrespectful to the dear one. The face is left open for a little while whilst goodbyes are said and last prayers are made, asking of Allah that the dear one enter Jannat ul firdous, the highest stations of paradise. Then, the face is closed off, and a woman is covered with an additional sheet to protect any mourners from seeing the shape of her body, a modesty which a muslim woman guards carefully in life.

Taken to what I can only refer to as "the place of goodbyes", the dear one is transported to (usually) the home of a close relative which is large enough to accomodate the volumes of people that will come to pay their respects and still separate women from men, it is laid down on the floor near the closest relatives. Buckets of prayer beads and prayer books are available for visitors, as anyone may come; the only request is for prayer.

A final Salaat is read, known as the Janaazah salaat. You may know muslims pray 5 times a day. These are not prayers of request, but prayers of worship. They are known as "salaat". Simplistically, this is a "final salaat".
An elder or prayer leader will also at some point recite special duahs that are reserved for this occasion, and it is evident from everyone present that this is a time of closure, of goodbyes, of well-wishes with love, kindness and respect. Then, the face is uncovered so that ONLY the family may say their final goodbyes before the dear one is transported in its state of purity and blessed by prayers - by male family members  - to the graveyard and gently lowered to the grave, where the muslim is buried facing Mecca, the place where Abraham (Ibraheem as) first built an altar, the place of pilgrimage, and the direction of all muslim prayers. The spouse may not touch the dear one, but may also say their goodbyes, often and usually held, hugged and loved by those present. Mourning is a time not of solitude but of companionship of fellow muslims, who will come daily to feed, help, love and pray with the family that remains behind.

Until the day we die, no-one present at any ghusl or burial "bath" will discuss the condition of the body or the miracles which happen behind those closed doors (and they DO happen). What I may say, is that it is an experience which cemented in me the reality that THIS is the way I want to "go". THIS is the kindest, sweetest, most loving act of closure and send-off to paradise , insh'Allah, which any human would desire. Non muslims are not permitted in the ghusl bath, as they would not know the prayers, and quite frankly in my opinion having come from a non-muslim background, they may quite simply not be accustomed to the level of self-restraint and kindness that can be shown so someone who is, crudely put, no more.
What I may also say, is that I spent many years seeking closure for the family and friends I lost outside Islam, yet within Islam, I have lost the fear of death as I knew it before. Now, a "corpse" to me is a friend, a dear one, someone once loved, still loved, who'se life and contribution to the lives of others is never forgotten.

When speaking of the dead, one should always speak only of the good - this is Islamic Etiquette. One should avoid speaking ill of the dead.

And so, this year, too, has come to an end. I thank Allah for the goodness in it. I beseech Him to forgive me for any sins committed in it, and I ask of Allah only goodness, victory, and good deeds in the New Year. Not because the deeds get me to heaven, but because I love Allah, I love my Nabi (peace be unto him), and I am humbled to have my eternal salvation in the hand of ONE so beneficent and Merciful as HE who instructed us to treat even the dead with such respect. Ya Allah, have mercy on this poor sinner, use all that I am for YOUR goodness and for kindness, use ALL that I can for illumination of this world filled with such darkness and disrespect, and use ALL that I am to plant seeds of freedom from hurt, from pain, and from fear, insh'Allah, ameen.

May this New Islamic Year set right the affairs that need righting, remove that which needs removing, bring that which needs bringing, and bring freedom of hearts and minds to prostrate before the Creator. Submission, is freedom, you ask? Well, if the above does not depict freedom from fear, from sadness, from anxiety, from loneliness, and it refers to DEATH, then what is it, if you are not muslim, that you may be missing of the many beauties of ISLAM that refer to LIFE?

Subhannallah!! La Ilaha Il Allah. Oh Allah convey peace and blessings and my humblest salaams to your Nabi, who brought to us such a level of kindness in every aspect of our life. Death, is humbling, but it needn't be frightening.

"I am not gone, I have just stepped into another room".

I dedicate this post to my beloved friend, sister, mother figure and teacher, Fathima Moola. May Allah LOVE her always and BLESS her always, and SHOWER her with all the joy and blessings HE can, and may HE grant her the company of the saints of Islam, and the friendship and companionship of the one she treasured so much in almost continuous durood, our Prophet and the final messenger of our beloved Creator, Muhammad (Peace be Upon Him)..