Beautiful People: Nasreen
Updated: May 28, 2020
By: Malaika Ahmed
Throughout my life, my mother was sick.
She knew this, she always expressed how she felt she didn’t have much time left in this world. She used to joke around and say that I would cry for a few days and move on with my life if she were to leave us.
If only she knew. If only she knew that after losing her in February of 2019, the person I loved more than I loved myself, not a minute went by that I didn’t think of her.
Her beautiful smile has become the first thing I think of when I wake up and the sweet sound of her laugh is the last thing to ring through my head before I fall asleep. The first dua to leave my lips after each and every prayer is for her, for this woman that gave me life even after losing hers, to reach the highest level of Jannah and for my family and I to reunite with her, inshaAllah. My mother was, and always will be, my everything. Her strength resonated so deeply in my bones that even when she took her last breath in this world, she was still teaching me lessons that would help me continue to move forward. At the beginning, I found that my sadness and grief constantly battled with an anger that stirred inside of me. I was always mad, my rage making me begin to question my faith. I’d be lying in my bed while the people in the rooms surrounding me were fast asleep and cry until my eyes were sore and closed on their own accord. I just couldn’t understand. Why did Allah (SWT) give me a taste of such sweet love then take her away before I reached the age of 21? Why did He take her from me when He knew she was everything I needed? How could someone who devoted her life to her faith go through so much pain? But shortly after my beloved mother was buried, a while after I washed her with my own hands and kissed her goodbye for the last time, I came to the realization that her love was so great, that it was meant to last me nothing short of a lifetime.
My blind rage quickly transformed into embarrassment for my audacity to question my Lord when my mother’s faith never wavered. If she could endure this pain without doubting her religion, my own uncertainty would only disappoint and hurt her.
With this in mind, I found that my faith and love for Islam slowly began to restore. My questions were replaced with one answer, that Allah (SWT)’s plans were far greater than any of my own and that while her body was buried in the soft earth, her soul would remain alive with my family. Her name is on the tip of our tongues as we reminisce of the good memories she made with us.
Her scent lingers on the heaps of clothing she left behind.
Her favourite colour coats the walls of my bedroom.
Her love is in my beating heart, in the long hair she oiled for me before bed, in the skin colour she taught me to embrace, in the desi garments we selected and bought together.
Her love is so strong that it will grow in me until I close my eyes for the last time.
How could I possibly think that she left me when I have her dimple or her big, brown eyes?
My mother was the most caring, kind and compassionate person I have ever had the privilege of knowing and loving. Even as I grieve her loss, it feels like she is everywhere I go.
I may not be able to see her or hold her, but I can feel her. I will spend everyday working towards becoming even a fraction of the woman she was until we reunite, until we never have to separate again, inshaAllah.
Mama x Malaika// Our love is like a flame that will never burn out.