One glorious day, indeed, made me a better creature than I was before, for my father’s final exit from this world reminded me of what every prophet said about one’s paramount objective in life: to regain union with his Maker.
The death of our loved ones may give us a hard time to accept but everything belongs to the Creator. When we conform to His will and surrender everything to Him, we will be contented in whatever happens.
Today is October 01, 2017. And sixteen years ago, October 01, 2001, was the appointed day my father returned to where he came from. That was the last day I saw dad.
My father’s death was sorrowful yet beautiful experience I encountered in my entire life.
Sorrowful because the man who played a very important role in my life had passed away. And beautiful, for the man who became an instrument of my existence had taught me wisdom.
I was and still am grateful to the Almighty for all the blessings He gave me; be it prosperity or adversity. I must thank Him as long as the door of my life is open. When He created my father, I was blessed.
When He took him back, I was still blessed for three good reasons:
Firstly, it was a pleasure for me when my father spent a short time with my own family. He paid us a visit two months before he bade his last farewell.
Accordingly, when he went back home, to my brother’s surprise, there was no other sweet topic he wanted to talk about except death. I knew he had lots of premonitions before and after he came to see me. Only he was not strong enough to blurt things out.
Secondly, I was fortunate given the last but the best chance to take care of him few days before he died. The time I spent with him was, indeed, a pleasure I enjoyed though it was only a very short period of time.
My father died of a heart stroke. It hurts so good to see him waved goodbye. Though my bleeding heart gradually broke into pieces, for the Beloved’s Sake, it was willing to bear the pain.
Thirdly, I was blessed given the short but intimate time to talk to him before he breathed his last. After the news of his confinement knocked me senselessly, I kept one little prayer in my heart:
“God, before you take my dad back, please give me enough time to be with him or even just one minute to see him before he departs.”
And the Most Merciful answered my prayer.
My father was confined for a week in the hospital and spent his remaining days for a couple of weeks at home. Although he was still a little conscious, I never heard him groan in pain; shout for fear; or toss in bed as he laid down his life.
I can never forget the incident during his confinement in the hospital how successfully he pulled out his dextrose, which made everyone panicked. Why does he need that hospital stuff anyway when he knew where and when to go?
So, the final hour arrived. It was seven fifteen o’clock in the morning at home when he bade his last farewell peacefully. I took everything calmly without a cry, a scream or a complaint.
But how much longer can my human nature bear the pain?
On the seventh day, I cried an ocean! My tears of sadness flooded, for he left this world ahead. And I shed tears of joy as well, for he did not sacrifice that much.
Now I missed the man who sacrificed a lot for my sake. He was a loving son my compassionate grandma loved and a patient husband my beloved mother had taken care of.
He was a responsible and a supportive father; a down-to-earth man who entertained both the high and the low; a friendly neighbor who never chose whether one is black or white; and a good joker who loved to crack jokes to make you laugh.
He taught me the meaning of life.
His innermost beauty and intelligence inspired me. He molded me; he taught me the importance of prayer; the power of giving and forgiving; and the value of kind-heartedness.
He taught me how to be patient as I had witnessed how he adopted a positive attitude towards poverty.
He showed me the joy of loving and living the purpose of life. If there was one significant thing I’ve learned from him, it was the keenness to search for the knowledge of one’s self.
I was grieved to lose him. I might only prolong the agony of losing him if I grieve continuously. And being unable to share this grief, I might grieve forever. Now my grief came to an end and I thanked the All-Knower, for He made him part of my life.
Physically, my father passed away but spiritually, he did not. When he breathed his last, he did not die, he rested in another world. I did not lose him only he went ahead of us.
But all praise be to the Wise as He took one good man from me, for He replaced another: a good husband.
Perhaps the best way to reciprocate my loving father is through prayers.
He may not be perfect but he is still the best father who made me proud to be his daughter.
No matter who he was; what he did; and where he is; I still have the highest regard for him, not because he was once my father, but because he taught me the meaning of love; showed me how to be a lover; and proved to me the shortest way to be with the beloved.
Yes, from Him we came and to Him we shall return.