Awaited Redemption

Friday Morning | Walid

I opened my eyes, blinking against the blinding light that illuminated the room in a peaceful hue, even through the hazy fog of half-opened lids, and weakened limbs feelings as if life was being returned into them, my mind couldn't help but sent a shock wave of relief to my heart, calming it's frantic beating. 

The dream I was paralyzed in, no trace of it left behind, but utter and pure shock of finding myself under the security of a house which sheltered me, instead of in the nightmare; where morning never seemed to arrive, sun never seemed to arise. 

Always running from something, towards something. Dread lining every inch of the perimeter; no matter where the head turns. 

I blinked my eyes, and realized that the morning dew have somehow found its way inside. 

The relief again rained inside, and my eyes dripped rain drops. Even though the world around was still reeling from the after affects of slumber, my heart in on itself formed the words, and they echoed all throughout me, even though they never escaped my mouth.

One word. 

Alhamdulilah. All praises and thanks to Allah. 

Allah; the Lord of the worlds. 

I imagined if I haven't woken up at the moment I did. I surely would've gotten a heart attack in my sleep. Seeing how fast it was beating when I woke up. 

He has given me another chance at life  by waking me up, not taking my life away, blessing me with another chance at a new day. To do the things I wasn't able to do yesterday, set right what had once been wrong. 

He had given me hope, given me tomorrow in the form of a present.

And I couldn't be more grateful, couldn't show my gratitude enough, could never even thank Him enough for this beautiful present He has given me today. Which He gives me everyday. 

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, not being able to move, able to get up, even as my mind made a lengthy list of all the chores I have to do. 

Last night has emotionally exhausted me. 

And as I lay, I thought through what happened. Every single word my mother said to me, replayed inside my head, and I couldn't seem to find the stop button. 

After she regained a hold on her tears, she pulled back, went and sat on the sofa, I followed her and sat beside her. 

Putting my arms around her.

We stayed like that for a minute, and then she pulled back again and started speaking.

She told me that he had come to her in her dreams, said his face was glowing and he had reached out and gently touched her face.

The burnt side.

She said that she felt a calm surround her heart, and even in her dream she called out to her Rabb in her mind, thanking Him for sending him back to her. 

She told me that she had moved forward, ready to be in his arms, but before her arms could wrap around him, he had vanished. 

She had turned frantically around, searching, seeking, calling out to him, but he was nowhere to be found after that. 

But before she could wake up, she heard a voice, bouncing across the premises of her dream, reaching her ears before she could open her eyes, saying something. 

Saying, "I'll be waiting." 

She had smiled at that, and then had woken up.

After a moment of silence, as I comprehended what she had just told me, I asked her that why she had cried then.

She told me that she had missed him fiercely after that, and the only thing she had left of him was her son, and she had just wanted to share this moment with someone who reminded her of him. 

Of their life together.

She then kissed me on my forehead, and told me that she was hungry, and so I went to cook for her.

I had distracted myself from her words while I cooked, but now, in the stillness of my bedroom, hearing the ticking of the clock, my own breathing, with nothing else to occupy my mind.

I went over her words, and realized how wrong she was. 

I was nothing like my father. I was a failure. 

A complete and total failure. The one who had dragged everyone down with him. 

Who didn't even spare his father. Whose mother was a walking reminder of what he had done. 

The pain he had put them through. The agony. 

He had thrown all his parents effort back at their faces, as he laughed at their horror filled reaction. 

Laughed until his sides ached, laughed until tears started to fill his eyes and drag down his face. Laughed until he was blinded by his tears.

 Until those tears turned real. Until he had fallen down, and hit his head on the ground. 

Waking up to find, there was nothing left; to laugh at. 

****************************************************************************

Asalam O Alikum everyone! Peace on you!

How are you all?

Two months huh? 

After two months I updated, sorry guys.... I have a problem, and I don't like it either at times, and it is that sometimes I just could not bring myself to write... 

I don't know why, maybe I feel as if my words are not good enough, or they are not as effective as I want them to be, or maybe I am not descriptive enough, and many other problems... 

Due to that I am sorry, for making you all wait like this... 

So I am not going to say when the next chapter will be, but the things will start to make sense after it... 

InshAllah!

AND! 

THE MOST IMPORTANT THING: I have no idea how to thank all of the people who have added the book to their reading list! and voted on it! Alhamdulilah!

JazakAllah Khair for all you support guys! 

I hope you are enjoying the story.. if not then do not hesitate to tell me... and suggest what I should do... 

All sorts of opinion are welcome!

Well, I did notice that a lot of French speaking people are adding the book to their reading list... I am very surprised at that, but pleased as well... 

does anyone want to share the secret of why this is happening..? just curious! ;)

Take care you all! You all are wonderful!

And... do not forget to smile... 

It is the most beautiful thing in the world... It's a Sunnah  :)