Suraya

10

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'I'm sorry to say that she has been diagnosed with a rare disease of the spleen. Come and I'll tell you all about it. It's better we discuss it in private' the doctor says and I follow him.
'You see, the spleen......................................'

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'I'm sorry but she can't make it. You would have to choose between your unborn child or your wife' the nurse says

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'Abba!!!!!!' Ummul Khulthum's voice screams from an unknown place and I look round to find darkness over darkness.
'Abba!? Where are you?! Abba! I'm here!!' She screams.
'No!!!!' She screams but I can't seem to find her anywhere.

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'You're alright now, don't worry. Everything's alright' She tells Ummul Khulthum.
'Please don't go, please. I can't sleep' Ummul Khulthum yawns
'I'm not going anywhere until you get better. I'm here if you need me' she says patting her shoulder.
'Seriously?'
'Seriously' she replied giving her a kiss on the forehead.

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'Innalilahi wa Ina'ilayhi Raji'un!' Salma Zainab's first daughter shouted.
'Your house is on fire! Someone call the fire department! Someone! Anyone!' My mom shouted
It was like I was in a trance. I couldn't do anything. I didn't try anything. Not when the people I loved where in the house that was on fire.
'I'm sorry to tell you this but your wife's dead. But your children are in the ambulance over there' Marc told me.
'My wife's dead? Again?' I question myself. 'She's dead' I whisper and all I saw next was darkness..........

'A'Uzubillahi Minash-Shaytuanir-Rajim!' I say immediately after I wake up from my crazy set of dreams.
I'm all hot and cold at the same time. My shirts wet due to my sweat. But the rooms air conditioning is still at sixteen.
I get to the toilet and wash my face with cold water. I look at myself in the mirror, my hair is falling onto my face, some are sticking to my forehead.
I sigh and enter the room. It's 3am. Some might say it's the devils hour but it's quite the opposite in what I believe in.
Before I go into the toilet, I change into another pair of black sweats and a white t shirt this time around.
I pray two raka'ats and read the Quran, this time I open to Suratul Nur (light).
I think of nothing and everything as I read the Quran. I think of Ummul Khulthum, Ameena, my mother, my father. Everyone and no one.
When I'm done reading I enter the library. I normally don't read but I know that when I'm in here I feel nostalgic.
I remember when Ameena used to sit me down and read a Harry Potter novel to me but I always end up sleeping half way through the first chapter.
It's not like I don't like Harry Potter, I just don't like the book version even if my late wife claims books are better than the movie versions, I still prefer the movie versions.
I sit in the rocking chair and look at all the books we have. I don't know what to do about them.
I'm not a reader and Ummul Khulthum hasn't picked up any reader ethics or signs. Maybe give them out to charity? Or the local library store?
I don't know, I pick up an old news paper and read old news. A head line catches my eyes and I decide to read it.
It says that the famous Muslim man who has an architectural company in Vancouver, Ibrahim Abdulkhaliq, died in an accident but his son fortunately survived the accident. And his wife also died out of shock, maybe thinking that her whole family's dead.
I continued reading, his son, Muhammad Burhan, has gone back to his home country, Nigeria, because he is still too young to live on his own.
When life takes it's drastic turn, we've got nothing to do except to follow it like obedient ducks.
I don't know where I got that from but i just thought of it. Now To think of it, what if Muhammad Burhan was originally from America? Where would he stay? Cause I'm sure he wouldn't want to stay at a social services homes.
And I'm sure he wouldn't want to stay at an orphanage. I hope he gets what he needs. The family he deserves. Hope he is happy where ever he is.
I read for a while before going back to sleep for about an hour and a half so I can wake up for Fajr prayer.