“The acceptance of death is painful than death itself,” uttered my eighty two year old mother who broke down in tears as she called me up an hour ago.
My mother suspected that there was something wrong with my brother’s health everytime he complained of a dull pain in his tummy but refused to visit a doctor. As the pain subsided, he ignored about it and thought it was just an ordinary pain that needed no medical attention.
But the day to undergo an urgent medical check-up and further treatment came as a storm that showed no signs of abating. As he began to catch a chill and uttered a groan in pain on his abdomen, he was admitted to the hospital and confined for few days.
My mother prayed intensely for his recovery and surrendered everything into the hands of the Most Powerful as she accepted my sibling’s ailment. She tried hard not to precoccupy herself with anxiety. But after she had a one-on-one talk at the private office of the attending physician, the day after my brother’s discharge, the doctor’s unexpected disclosure came as a shock to her. Now she was cloaked in despair.
The whole truth about his son’s suffering catapulted her into the sea of doldrum. I controlled my tears as I heard her whimpered in pain. Her heartache was akin to an arrow released from a bow that hit me terribly but I swallowed the pain of my bleeding heart and turned a deaf ear to her sobbing.
“You are right mom, we have to accept the whole thing, for everything is under the Power of the Omnipotent. We will do everything within our capacity and let go of whatever is beyond our control.” I replied with my voice steady, albeit, I struggled to hide my emotion behind a veil to calm her aching heart. But emotions are emotions. I burst into tears after our conversation. How I wish I could embrace my mother tight and rub her back.
I was then reminded of my ninety three year old grandma’s sentiment as she cried over my sixty four year old father’s demise: “My son, my son, why did you die? Why did you go ahead of me?” She then bade farewell four years after, the same date (Oct. 01) with that of my father’s passing away.
I witnessed how my mother was racked with pain for my father’s departure; and now for my brother’s chronic illness: Cirrhosis, a chronic disease of the liver marked by the degeneration of cells, inflammation and fibrous thickening of tissue. What bled my heart was my mother’s loneliness and pain, not much with my brother’s ailment. How could a mother not sympathize for the agony of another mother anyway?
As I accepted my brother’s serious medical condition, I succumbed to the Beloved’s Will. According to his doctor, he has only six to nine months lifespan but how could he be right? My belief in the Miracle of the Real Healer remained, for He Alone is the Trustworthy who knows the remedy for all kinds of ailments.
How could I conceal my true feelings as loneliness manifested through the tears that dripped from my eyes. I love my brother and prayed hard for his welfare but I still have no absolute authority to interfere with the final adjudication of the Judge’s Verdict. In the first place, why should I engage myself in fear and agonize about his state when I am certain that this unexpected cloudy weather that travelled with me in the midst of my journey is only a bird of passage?
As Bediuzzaman Said Nursi says:
“Worry is itself an illness, since worry is an accusation against Divine Wisdom, a criticism of Divine Mercy.”
Now, with the help of the All-Protector, never will I allow this smokey atmosphere to darken my eyesight and deprive me of cognizance. Never will I allow this burglar who broke into the chambers of my heart rob me of my faith and trust for the Beloved. I know this foggy weather will soon pass. – JoyWadi
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