Here is another friendly reminder. I really hope these are helping people. I always love to learn new information about Islam and I hope these little pointers are helping increase the knowledge of any one reading. Please let me know if there are any mistakes.
Method of Making Ghusal
1. Wash both your hands up to the wrist.
2. Wash the private parts properly to remove all the dirt. Remove all pubic hair and the hair from under the arms.
3. Make WUDU. Ensure that the mouth and the nostrils are washed properly. Also brush your teeth and gargle your mouth till the throat.
4. Wash the entire head properly.
5. Then wash the entire body, making sure that every part is washed properly. Start with the right-hand side of the body and then the left-hand side.
6. When you have completed the Ghusal, dry the whole body with a clean towel and get dressed as quickly as possible.
The Fards (Faraa'id) of Ghusal
1. To wash the whole mouth. If you are not fasting, then you must gargle your mouth until the water reaches the throat.
2. To cleanse the nostrils.
3. To wash the whole body thoroughly from the head to the toe.
There are certain actions in Ghusal which are Sunnah. If you perform these actions you will get great Thawaab. These actions are:
1. The person should make the Niyyah or intention for Ghusal.
2. Washing the hands 3 times till the wrist.
3. Washing the private parts thoroughly.
4. All dirt from the body should be removed.
5. To perform the Wudu.
6. To pour water over the right shoulder 3 times and then over the left shoulder 3 times.
7. To pour water over the head and the whole body 3 times.
8. Washing the feet when Ghusal is completed and then leaving the place of Ghusal.
9. To make Ghusal in a private place. If you are making Ghusal in the bathroom, make sure that the door is closed and nobody can see you.
10. Make sure that you do not read or speak while making Ghusal. If somebody does call you and you need to reply then make a noise or sound like you are clearing your throat. The person will know that you are making Ghusal and will not disturb you.
11. To dry the body with a clean towel or cloth.
Take a couple of minutes to watch the beautiful reminder above.
21k!! What ?!?! Alhamdullilah. JazakAllah (thank you) every one! You guys are all such beautiful souls. I appreciate all of the votes and comments so much I can't explain it! Please continue to vote, comment, and share, it means so much to me.
---
Adam wasn't lying.
Time flew by slow, but it did. The first week was handicapped and crawled in miserably feeble motions. I would stare at the empty seat in front of me and miss most of the lecture in the process. Each walk in the hallway was short lived. I would drive home feeling like I had forgot something. Every other day became routine and I got accustomed to not seeing his face or hearing his voice, no matter how hard it was to accept.
Weeks became months. Finals arrived and left. I marked the day of my father's departure and remember not being able to sleep that night out of pure excitement. When the time came and we had successfully brought him home healthy and safe, I had excused my self and ran to the bathroom to cry.
Not just because I was happy about my father's arrival. But because I was now fully convinced that he wasn't coming back.
The worst part of it all was my heart ached and worried immensely for his safety. Considering I had many sleepless nights following the arresting incident, I had no doubt that Adam was out there in danger and no one would know of his exact whereabouts. Cici and his father surprisingly dismissed his disappearance too quickly for my liking. It made me wonder if they knew of his location. I had intended to call and ask Cici but it seemed inappropriate, so I never did. I sat there in what I felt was ignorance, staring at the changing seasons outside my window, while my family sat in the background, completely unfazed by my lack of optimism.
They blamed it on school and that story was partially true.
Today was one of the most important days of my future but my thoughts were slamming the festive vibes into a pit. I was continuously tugging at my gown and shifting uncomfortably as people began moving at a snail pace in front of me. The entire area was too hot and the lights were too bright. My skin felt clammy and my heart was beating faster than a sports car. There were too many people and too much noise. I wanted to run away, even if that sounded silly, but I did. I had awaited this day since I was a kid and now that it was here, I wanted it to become inexistent.
"Aamirah Ammar," Ms. Carrel booms through the microphone, struggling to pronounce my name while she says it. I was the first one in my class to be moving up, thanks to the alphabetical order.
My eyes widen a little overwhelming as I walk forward. I hear some loud cheering among the chaos in my head and can't help but smile upon hearing my father's voice. I seek mama frantically taking pictures with the camera I had just this morning taught her to use, while Aasif just nods his head in approval. I turn around to face the lights and the camera while being handed my diploma from the principle.
Out of all of people in the crowd, my eyes focus on my father standing up and clapping incredulously while whistling and praising me. To some, this would have been the most embarrassing gesture but I stand there dazed and become emotional. My tears blur the rest as I walk off the stage. My dad continues on his chanting all the way to my seat and I simply smile and wave at him before sitting down.
I feel like an incredible mess by the time the ceremony is nearing its end because I am so happy my father is here today. His health was what all of my prayers were directed towards and I was blessed more than ever to have had them accepted by the Almighty. A couple of months ago, the doctors were sure that his life expectancy was no where over five months, but he had over lived that to present full recovery, which to most doctors was insanely impossible.
I knew it was all God's doing. And this situation showed exactly how God is the best of planners and how important patience is.
I applaud Ayah as she walks the stage along with everyone else I knew.
He wasn't here. This made the clawing at my heart worse, but I had let his absence sink in. The notion of his leave was finally a reality and I was slowly absorbing its presence.
By the time that everyone has crossed the stage, I run over to Ayah and we take some pictures. Nura and Sophia come for a couple of seconds to converse before going their own ways. They've finally grasped my need for distance, their hesitance as they speak, stuttering this to the brim.
It is all for the better I decide.
"Aamirah, over here," mama yells over the crowd of black gowns and cheery faces.
I turn to face the direction of the noise and smile at the camera that is hiding her face. My dad hugs me in an embrace and the warmth of the hug is too radiant to explain. Aasif punches me hard in the shoulder as a congratulations and mama kisses my cheeks too hard. We take family photos in and around the auditorium until my shoes engrave into my skin a little too uncomfortably for my liking. I walk past some familiar acquaintances and share vague farewells on the way to return my gown.
"So, this is it?" I hear Ayah huff from beside me and I turn around to face her.
"I guess so," I comment, feeling all emotional again. The whole sense of wanting high school to end all year seemed too distant at this moment. I look around at everyone leaving with their family members and realize that I may never see these same faces again. It makes me feel oddly grey.
"Promise to keep in touch Aam," she presses before tightly hugging me. I return the gesture and nod my head.
"Of course," I murmur honestly. It almost seemed ridiculous to be declaring our departures when I had just later this year met her. But it was necessary; she wasn't going to the same university as I was.
"Ayah, we are leaving!" I hear her mother announce behind us. I say my greetings to her before eyeing Ayah one more time.
"This is not goodbye," I reassure her. She nods with a hesitant smile and walks away.
It's weird how close I have gotten to her in such a short period of time. She somehow took the reserved personality right out of me, something that was slightly difficult for most people.
I take in the extra quiet on my way back to the car. Part of me is excited about the coming week but another part doesn't feel as hyped. As promised, my father finalized our trip to Dubai, a place I have only dreamed of going. We had been packing for the last couple of weeks and today was the last of it. There was so much to be optimistic about but I somehow didn't feel it. And I hated that deep down, far in an abyss, I knew it was because of him.
We cruise around the summer rush of downtown before settling for Arab cuisine. I take in the comfort of food and company with family, lingering far too long on my father's happiness. It seemed so long ago that he was trapped in his illness. And yet here he is, beating the odds of a fatal cancer.
I just feel so blessed, it's surreal.
-
I look over at the masses of luggage taking over the living room and sigh as I place the last of my belonging on top. I am beyond exhausted and relieved that the task is hung to dry.
"Lets surprise your father," my mom suddenly chirps while we are all seated in the family room.
"How are we going to do that?" I chuckle at her eyes wide in excitement. She looks like a little child, it is beyond amusing. I loved how her glow had reappeared, it was one other blessing I could not be more than happy with.
"Well, he is going to be working a lot later today, so I was thinking we would make a little party for him since we hadn't done that the day he came back from the hospital," she explains in a bubbly voice, while walking around the room over fidgety.
"Like a late welcome home party," I regurgitate simply while smiling, because it is a brilliant idea.
"Yes!" She yelps at my understanding and I can't help but laugh at how funny she is acting.
"Okay, so what kinds of food should we make?" mama asks and I think long and hard because this is going to be the most important part.
"Pizza," Aasif suggests while captivated by his video game.
"Great. Aamirah, can you pick up some celebratory decorations while we get started on the food."
I nod and walk outside, feeling gleeful all of a sudden. I pick up balloons, streamers, and welcome back banners. I also get some cake and too many sweets to count. And when wobbling my way to the car, with every single bag pinching into my wrists, I realize just how bad of an idea buying this stuff all at once was. To make matters worse, I struggle to find the keys when I reach the trunk.
"Do you need some help?" some masculine voice asks from behind me and I feel myself freeze up.
I turn around and let my eyes adjust in the blinding darkness all around me. After much complication, I finally see the figure a few inches from me. His charcoal hair blends in with the sky but his wolfish blue eyes emanate against it. I look around at the empty parking lot and feel my throat parched. His smirk seems to be growing and all I want to do is run away from the discomfort his presence is bringing.
"No thank you," I whisper after clearing my throat.
"But you seem to be having some difficulty," he eyes the bags then me, while that evil smile reappears, making every goose bump on my body arise.
"I'm fine, thanks," I mutter and risk turning around to finally find my keys and jam them in over shakily to open the trunk. I can still feel him standing behind me and want to scream as loud as my lungs could allow but I don't. I just quietly throw the bags into the car and listen to every little noise around the mass quiet.
"Throwing a birthday party?" he questions after mesmerizing over the balloons that scatter out of one of the bags.
"More like a welcome back," I answer, my voice giving away. On top of everything, I can't believe I am still talking to him but during all of the silence, I manage to pray in every way that he just leaves.
"For?" He inquires while getting closer to me, the gesture making my panic attack grow to extensive heights.
"My father," I gulp while walking to the front seat. I anxiously insert the keys under his stare forgetting that my doors can open automatically and feel a sudden urge to cry because this is all too much. And this feeling of wanting to cry anytime I experience a stressful event angers me.
"He is lucky to have you as a daughter," he says smugly, his smile not as sincere as his words.
"Allow me," he emphasizes, taking the door from me as I finally open it. He gestures for me to get inside and I do, my body in complete quivers at this point.
"Drive safe," he suddenly instructs, more like a dry command and I just nod my head. I let the car start, the roaring echoing around the deserted parking lot. He moves aside for me to get out. I start reversing and by the time I am done, he is nowhere in sight. I look everywhere and nothing.
I take that as my cue to zoom out of there without a second glance.
While walking back to my house, I pondered over the individual. It was an absurd experience, but I thanked God for getting me out of there safe. I try to focus on my father's party once I enter the house, especially since mama is so excited. I didn't want to take that away form her because of everything else that has happened.
It wouldn't be fair.
By the time I have blown every balloon and attached all of the decorations I have bought, I am beyond drained. Mama has already flipped the kitchen upside down and it is exceptionally entertaining to watch a forced Aasif in an apron trying to help. I take in the warmth of this situation as we all make the pizzas. Aasif throws a bunch of dry dough at me in frustration when his dough wont stop evolving holes. The rivalry continues until all of the pizzas are housed in the oven.
"Turn the news on Meera," mama says from the kitchen and I hesitantly pick up the remote to do as she says. It reminds me of that lonely night watching Sebastian get arrested and I want to walk away. But within seconds, I know I can't.
"There is a fire mama!" I yell when I see the "fatal fire hazard" heading on the screen.
"It is taking over some of southern downtown!" I continue, absolutely drenched in anxiety.
I fumble for the phone and dial my father's cell, praying and begging that he picks up. Aasif and mama are all surrounding my cell as I leave it on speaker. Each ring feels so long and painful.
"Please pick up, please," I pray when it is on its last ring. My eyes are already watery.
"Aamirah Assalaamu 'Alaikum," he says calmly on the other side of the line and I almost start sobbing in relive.
"Walaikum Asalam. Oh thank God, are you alright?" I ask desperately.
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" he sounds concerned.
"Well, we heard about the fire in downtown and got worried," I speak the jisk of how we felt.
"What fire? Where?" He inquires in full alarm.
"There is a huge fire around southern downtown so please come home," mama presses gently.
"I will have to make a detour then, see you guys soon In sha Allah," he says and we all bid our farewells.
I run upstairs to my room and hear my phone buzzing on the way.
"Assalaamu 'Alaikum. Aamirah, are you alone?" my dad sounds through.
"Walaikum Asalam. Yes, I am heading over to my room, why?" I ask slightly confused.
"Because my phone is dying and I needed to talk to you," he says in a hurry.
"Okay, I'm all alone," I announce.
"I wanted to let you know that I am so proud of you for coming so far in spite of everything else, I commend you," he praises sincerely and I feel really uncomfortable because he never verbally speaks about my effort. It's a foreign experience.
"And the fact that you got accepted to every university you applied to, I couldn't be more pleased Meerah," he continues and I feel like crying for some reason because I had worked so hard and it seemed to all pay off at this instant. But instead of voicing my thanks, I just let the silence speak for itself.
"Can you go into your closet?" He suddenly asks and I stop for a second, utterly confused before walking towards it. I look around to notice everything looking exactly as I left it, which leaves me more curious then ever.
"I'm inside," I acknowledge while smiling at how weird this is.
"Do you see the blue bag in the back?" he questions and I walk there. Sure enough, there is a huge gift bag.
"Yes, I see it," I struggle to keep the phone between my shoulder and ear while picking up the heavy bag.
"Open it."
So, I do. I rip past the multiple different colourful tissues and end up looking at a perfectly wrapped box. I continue on unwrapping that to uncover something so thoughtful.
"It's a stethoscope," I breath, taking in the expensive hand made 'You will always have my heart - dad" message .
"It's so beautiful! I adore the message. JazakAllah Khair dad," I still can't believe he would buy me this so early. It just makes me feel like he believed in me that much more and I couldn't stop smiling at the idea.
"You better put it to good use," he chuckles on the other side and I reply with a nervous laugh.
"I love it so much," I continue admiring its beauty.
"I am glad you do."
"I wanted to catch your reaction but got held back at work and I figured you'd be sleeping when I got home," he says distractingly and I can tell he has the phone on speaker as he is driving. I simply nod like he can see me and let the call go to silence again.
"There is also a card that I want you to read after I get off the phone- It would be more special that way."
I look around the rest of the tissues and see a huge envelope addressed to me in lovely cursive writing.
"I will see you soon In sha Allah and remember, I am so proud of you," he repeats and ends the call before I can say anything else.
I smile like an idiot at the card for a good two minutes, admiring every little engraving of utter simplicity before breathing in and out to finally open it.
Aamirah,
It's strange to think that a short eighteen years ago, I had held your little body. You were so precious. Your eyes were already eagerly overlooking your surroundings. Your little hand was tightly encircling my finger and I remember feeling so at peace, because you were absolutely perfect. And I knew from the way you smiled so easily that there was something special about you.
That little you grew up faster then most other kids did. And I want to make myself believe that it wasn't my fault that you didn't get to enjoy all of the innocent things kids your age experienced, but I can't come to it. It was hard seeing you (a child) witness your father, who was supposed to be your rock, flailing around in bed like a helpless child. But you handled it so well and I feel so blessed for that. I am more than convinced that you took care of the family. I will forever be thankful to you for that. Your loving heart and the way you follow our faith are the traits I am most proud of. And I commend you for your hard work in spite of everything you were going through. Your resiliency is impeccable.
And there will be times when I will fail you, like I had done for most of your childhood and recent year. But I want you to know that it was never under my control. None of this was. I ask that you forgive me for all of the lost times. I know you hate when I say it but that's what I feel. I was weak and worthless during your time of need and I pray you forgive me. I pray that you live a long healthy and prosperous life (Amen), especially for all of the heartache and burden you faced on my behalf. You deserve every bit of happiness and success that comes your way. It's amusing how early you chose your profession and to this day, stuck to it. I am so proud of your determination.
But what I will be most proud of is how optimistically you have leaded your life, even with all of the adversity you faced so young. That to me, is most admirable. It also makes me believe that this was that special thing I saw in you the day of your birth. I can still feel it now.
Maybe I am writing this letter to let you know that the past is behind us and I know that we will make the future brighter In Sha Allah. We needn't focus on negative events. My greatest accomplishment in life would be to strengthen that optimism of yours in more ways than one, and make sure that it is never dug up because of me. It would be the most I could do to reciprocate all you've done for me.
If I ever fail you again, continue to care for the family and your self. It would always mean the world to me.
Your loving father
The entire letter has become flimsy from my tears and the fresh ink seems to be smudging. I hold the letter close to my heart and sob to the ceiling. It is the most emotion I have received from my father and it meant so much more than can be explained. There was multiple parts left to debate with him but all I could focus on was how raw and sincere every little portion was. I couldn't be more happy at this moment.
After a couple of minutes of just sitting on my bed and staring at every little word on this paper, I decide to fold it into my pocket closest to my heart and clean up before going back downstairs. Mama is still glued to the oven and Aasif to his games.
Everything seems so normal.
I join Aasif on the couch and beg him to let me play. I was never into gaming but today seemed like a celebratory day to play. We go back and forth with him yelling at me for being so incompetent. I take the rude comments in the beginning but then they start to hurt my feelings so I leave in the middle of a game. That infuriates him even more but I decide that he deserves it.
I help mama set up the pizzas and drinks on the table. We also touch up on the decorations and then wait for my father to arrive. When minutes turn to hours, we all start getting worried. Calling him on his cell also turns out to be useless since it goes straight to voicemail.
"He's probably stuck in traffic from the fire incident," mama convinces us. So, we wait for another two hours until it's well into the next morning and mama's statement becomes thin lines of forced positivity. I can't sit still any more so I decide to drive around his route.
My heart is beating heavily and I feel like I am hyperventilating when I drive around for forty-five minutes without seeing any signs of him. I am also distracted by mama's continuous phone calls from home. She is talking too fast and I can never understand her. It is too early and I haven't slept, so everything in front of me is a haze.
On top of it all, our flight was today.
After much more searching, I decide to call the police and give them information on him. Everything feels so escalated and I am holding onto every inch of hope I can but this instance is so unexpected.
I have never been so unprepared.
At home, we try to carry on as if everything is normal but you can feel the tension and uneasiness. When afternoon overtakes us, my anxiety is through the roof and I am convinced there is something gravely wrong. We cancel our flight and continue to pray for his safe arrival.
---
I hear a distant scream so loud it jerks me out of my two minute sleep. My body starts sweating and I completely freeze up when I hear it again. I stumble through the blankets and the complete dark of my room to run towards the hallways and down the stairs. A cold breeze hits my feet and I realize when I come downstairs that the door has been left open. All the blood in my body drains when I see a police officer standing next to the door and my mother lying on the ground in a fetal position.
I am so paralyzed, I can't move.
I just stand there and cry at the sight. Every part of me knows I don't want to go down. So, I sit on the steps and listen to my mother screaming, every single goosebump on my body hurting from each episode. Aasif comes down and goes to sit next to my her.
But I can't move. I can't. I just sit there like a coward.
I was nothing like my father's letter.
And this showed it.
"What happened?" Aasif formulates, his voice surprisingly controlled.
The police officer looks at all of us uneasily. His face alone forces me to bury my head in between my legs. I subconsciously grip onto the letter in my pocket, the hold hurting my skin.
None of this can happen.
It can't.
"We found your father's vehicle. He was in an extremely sensitive state. There was nothing we could do."
And there it went, every single possible ray of happy I had ever felt. I was drowning once more, being smothered again like I had. I couldn't breath. And I try to catch some air like I had attempted under all of that cold and dark water, but the minimal effort is worthless. Its like I am being forcefully dunked into the ocean and the grip is so strong, I can't even manage to pull my head back up. And part of me knows its because I am not willing myself to get out. I am not fighting hard enough.
I wanted to drown and that was the reality of it.
So I let my kicking legs relax and limp my rapidly moving arms to my sides, the water choking me mercilessly.
It is so painful, but it repeats over and over with the same heavy hands pushing my head into the water. I come dangerously close to death but once I do, the arms let me desperately gasp for air and just when I am relived that its over, my head is thrown back in and the horrible feeling starts all over again. I am suffocating so much I have to hold on to my neck. But it just doesn't stop, so I leave my crouched position.
"No!" I scream so loudly I lose my balance as I get up. I vaguely feel like I am hurting my hand when I hit my fists into the staircase. They start bleeding after some more hits but I don't care; All of my insides are already bleeding. I grab everything I can and start throwing it onto the ground.
Its as if I have lost all sense of control.
The police officer comes to stop me but he can't. I ruin everything along my way with my feet and my hands. Anything. This goes on until more officers come to force me down. I am still screaming and I know this because my throat hurts so much. Everything hurts so much, I almost can't feel my body. But my mind senses, and it will be tattooed into me in immortal life spans.
I feel a pinch in my arm and start getting drowsy. A woman's face blurring in and out of my vision is all I see while I struggle to move against a couple of strong arms on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground. I weakly punch the chest of the strange woman and feel my fists turn into jello before me.
"No!" I shriek almost like a faint whisper as my body fails to follow my commands. The last thing I do is hold onto the pocket with my letter inside. From there, everything turns black and numbness overtakes my already dead body.
I pray I don't wake up again.