How helpless you feel when the fact is there; unchangeable, irreversible.
How foolish those doctors seem, when they think that their decade-long studies give them the right to pronounce death sentence against your dear one;
How numb your mind feels when it has, and no choice is there, to acknowledge that there’s such a thing called The End, and that it is approaching;
How wrong your calculations seem, when you suddenly realize that what you’ve been building away from your loved one simply has no foundations;
How worthless that passion you followed seems, when you discover that you have deprived yourself of true passion.
My full support and compassion to all those who have known, by bitter, ruthless scientific evidence, that a dear one is leaving soon.
7 comments:
I didnt experience it...Maybe because I think Death is Mercy!! the loved one is definitely moving to a better "world" (it may soothe pain to think this way)
ur words are too tough and hurtful.. no one knows when the end will be.. no one knows who'll die first, the old sick person lying on the bed, or the young and healthy person crossing the street..any of us can die any time.. al a3mar biyadi Allah!
How gloomy you have turned, dear Kaoutar! You're scaring me! I look forward to seeing your nice smile on your blog!
َAna >>> Yeah, although separation is always difficult.
Saba >>> Well that's what I said. No one has the right to procounce the sentence. But you should see the effect it makes - and this is what I tried to reflect. Faith is there of course, but disappointment, doubts, and fear are also there. Rabbi kbir.
M. Lagouader >>> Life is an endless cycle of joy and sadness, and I'm one of those who tur as life turns :)
@ saba
I experienced that personally. I have no serious illness and yet I nearly fainted twice during last Ramadan (I was fasting, you know) on hearing (from my younger sister) that the doctors had told my mother that my (then sick) father wad going to die soon. "There's nothing left in my father's abdomen," my sister said tearfully. "No intestine, no stomach, just a tiny piece of the liver..." Today, I had to run to catch up with my father who had gone far away from home. When I reached him, he said, "Bring me my chair and a small bottle of water. I want to sit here in the sun for a while. I got bored in the house." Until a little more than a week ago, that would have been unimaginable. Al7amdo lillah
And even at the worst of my father's illness, I kept writing poems and blogging and SMILING. Indeed, I had to act just like my characher (The Philosopher) when all the members of my family fell into despair and just started waiting for my father to pass away. I spoke to my father direct when the others feared that I may pronounce the word "cancer".... I said in essence that even if my father had cancer -which the doctors now say he hasn't wal7amdo lillah- there was still room for hope. I made my sister read out to my father and all the others a few pages about cancer I had received from a woman university professor from Bahrain. And that had a very positive effect, together with my endless prayers to God for my father's recovery.
All that poem just to say I'm no "cynical"- if anyone thought I was.
Anonymous >>> I guess I know who you are, The Philosopher, and I'm glad to know that your father feels better. Lhamdulillah :)
Thanks for sharing your experience.
@Anonymous: thank you for sharing.. I really do appreciate, and Allah ichafi lwalid insha Allah wmerdana kamlin ya Rab!!
Post a Comment