'Condolences
for Our Loss.' The
signal I've been waiting for between the fragments of solemn reality
and sacred sleep. The incisive sign of forgoing, and the beginning of the
painful stage of realization.
I am
not really sure if I'm writing to keep your memory alive, or to put it to a
rest like I pray for your soul. May be both. Do I owe it to you or myself? May
be both. The stream of tears holding on to your memory comes down my face while
the shock of your passing shakes my being. Why is it always too late?
This is
the thing about growing up; you’re always late to realize that you cannot take
life for granted. And it hurts every single time but you never learn. I try to
swallow the heavy silence of your loss. But it stings my heart. The pain of
loss demands to be felt. My eyes and heart succumb. My whole existence
surrenders. Was a final farewell too much to ask for? Who knows, maybe this was
better for you. For me. For both of us. Too late. I shouldn't be
sinking in the whirl of what-ifs now.. it’s too late.. too selfish. I
condolence myself with silent prayers for you.
Pure.
Your smile, so pure. Your chuckle, so captivating and sincere your eyes close.
How strong you were, facing the world with your slim figure with that lipstick
you wore. Never perfect but resilient. Did I ever tell you that I find
your grooming defiantly beautiful? Alone. You died alone. There's a harsh taste
to the verb die. Pass away is just the soft version of the throbbing impact of
the word death. Demise. Decadence. Grave burden of loss.
The
weight of realizing your loss silences my words. My being. Literally.
اللهم
أغفر لها وأرحمها وأدخلها جنات النعيم ..
اللهم
آنسها في وحدتها وآنسها في وحشتها واجعل قبرها روضة من رياض الجنة و املأ قبرها
بالرضا والنور والفسحة والسرور.
اللهم
الهمنا الصبر وتوفنا وانت راض عنا يا أرحم الراحمين.
آمين.
