I told my kids I had to go out and I went to the kubur . It was hot but when I was there it was quiet and windy. It was odd that I actually felt calm . Her kubur was dry and I watered it several times. There were weeds and I sat there pulling them out. I wanted to tell her that she would've hated the weather .And I wanted to tell her that I miss her desperately. I sat there knowing that she is in a better place. I calmed down and things made more sense. I whatsapp my family group so that they know where I 'ran' away. They knew I needed some time to myself . It's odd how I'm sitting there , staring at the tombstone with her name on it and knowing that she's in a better place. It's hard for me to say but her death came at the right time. Allah knew exactly when to take her away. She's in a better place. Then it dawned on me that my time will come. Death is inevitable. Yes, going to visit her generally puts things in perspective and is a good reminder of what I should be doing with my life.
She was very very ill and hardly had a life. Towards the end I knew and I could see that she didn't have much reason to live. Her eyes were dull, she hardly spoke and she would occassionally mention how she didn't have much left in life because she couldn't do anything. She was right. I was there to make her life comfortable but I wasn't enough. She wanted more. Her sisters were growing and Mazhar was busy with school but her life has stopped. She was doing less and less . Actually, she couldn't do anything without me. That too put some pressure on me. It was quite hard managing the four kids. I was determined to give her the best of me. The best of me , not all of me because I had other people who needed me too. So , there's always that regret of not giving more but I knew I couldnt. I gave my best.
But that day , the day we burried her was extremely extremely hard. Mazhar and Azuar was in the van jenazah with her. I instructed him to follow her everywhere. When we arrived, everything happened was so fast. They carried her out and were about to put her in the liang lahad and I remember telling Mazhar "Go in and help . You have to bury Kakak. This is the last thing you'll ever do for her." I stood at the edge of the grave and watched four very familiar faces slowly put her in. I watched them carefully and wanted so much to go in there and lie my daughter down for the last time. My mind knew better and I watched. I watched Mazeed , Mazhar, Azizi and the caretaker put her in according the burial procedures of a Muslim burial. They proceeded to shovel the earth on her and my tears could not stop flowing but they were in control. Eventually the sight of her frail small body disappeared from my sight and I knew that I had to learn how to live without her. When we got home that night Mazeed told me how he wanted to adjust how she lay in the liang lahad because she was always particular about the positioning of how she slept. She had her comfortable position. Then he realised it didn't matter because she was gone.
I'm very sure that she was always worried that I'd leave her but she left me first and I have to cope and start to learning to live without her. How do I do that when that's all I did for 18 years. Where do I begin? How do I do it? It was very testing . I went through a lot own and never told anyone as I did not want to worry everyone else. What can I say about me now? I enjoy silence. I enjoy being on my own. I learned the importance of being independent and moving on. I also love unconditionally(may not always be a good thing). The truth is that everyone you love will die. It's just a matter of who goes first and how. I pray for more strength now than I did before. And I remember her always to remind me what is important because sometimes I forget.