Umm Maryum

I have marvelled before at the way Allah swt places people in our lives. And at night, in the private of your room, in the comfort and warmth of your bed you think of these such people and sometimes you smile, and sometimes you weep, but always is the realisation of an unrepayable debt. The people who have given you so much and you have so little to offer them in return – there is just not enough in you to balance those scales.

I remember prior to my marriage I would meet up with Umm Maryum (back before I could call her that) at a regular sisters day. We would sit for the lesson, one of us inevitably late, finding a spot together or making room, concentrating. And afterwards would talk, of family, of life, of work. Maybe there was food – always a falafel/chicken sandwich from Al-Manara – or sometimes just hijab shopping. Sometimes we’d catch up during the week, those days I made it to Monday/Thursday nights at the masjid after work. Sometimes we chat on the phone. I don’t know if much was ever really said. A lot of listening was done. And that bond developed. The one you don’t see happening, only realising its creation after the fact. The type of bond that allows you to say very little but still reach an understanding. The friend you can sit in silence with and not feel the need to fill the air with meaningless chatter. And, as always, with time things change. I remember the first week I was married, she would visit me every evening and stay while my while XH worked night shift. Teaching me to cook – salted chicken as I recall was the first dish – which was awesome the time she made it, and destroyed with the addition of an entire container of salt the time I tried to do it alone.

I remember the day she called me to tell me her mother was ill. That it didn’t look good. I was off from uni. It was mid-afternoon, ‘asr had not yet entered. The sun was starting to seep though the kitchen window. I was cooking. I don’t know what. Probably chicken. And the mobile rang. I remember running across the house to answer it. I remember getting back to the kitchen and staring at the chicken without appetite as she told me. I didn’t know what to say. I felt entirely useless. The same girl who had listened me when things were upside down was having her world thrown around and I had nothing to say. I remember getting off the phone. Leaning on the counter. Turning off the stove and sitting on the floor. I remember crying. But I still had nothing to say. No appropriate words of comfort. I was not balancing the scales.

And even still, after all that, these such people are still there for you. When the rest of the world forgets of your existence they call. Make contact somehow. And you remember how much you miss them. Good friends. True friends. And you wish you had something to give in return but as always you are short-handed.

And so this is the outlet for expressing your gratitude for everything they have given you, every minute, every second, every world of comfort, and every word of advice, every breath, every morsel of food, everything. So to this sister I say: may Allah swt grant you the greatest of rewards, I love you with all of my heart and I ask Allah swt to provide you with nothing but good in this life and the hereafter. I ask Him swt to lift your burdens, lighten your load, and guide those that you love to His Way. I ask that He swt grant you true happiness and well-being. Amin.