The red dirt is soft and fresh on his grave and those of his two friends. There are young people of every age all over the cemetery as far as the eye can see. I am standing away from the tree, but close to the side of the grave.
I throw my last petal of the red roses on him that someone has handed to Im’s Mom and me. I watch as the young faces file away one by one, and suddenly the heavens open and I am drenched in the downpour. Someone gently leads me away to a friends van. It is raining. I try to remember that it is supposed to be a blessing; the heavens cry on the spot of earth where they miss a good person……..I can’t remember the rest.
I look out of the window of the car as we leave the cemetery; it is raining…………..and a sheet of water comes between my child’s grave and me. I am leaving and returning alone.
Almost five years later I open the mail and I recognize the handwriting on the envelope. A friend of Tariq’s writes to us as a family at every milepost…… Today at the High school graduation the empty chairs remind be of past students that sat there once and are no longer with us. She says:
“It poured down rain as I was running this morning, and I thought how it did the same at Tariq’s service, and one of the girls had told me that it was a sign from God that Tariq was where he should be 🙂 I love how the rain can be both physically and spiritually refreshing!
I am making a quick trip to town tomorrow for my youngest brothers graduation from High school…. Don’t you remember those days from the class of 2004? What a special time! I hope you are doing well these days! I hope to see you soon.”
The letter ends with an uplifting note.
Her letters are a balm for a never ending pain………a lovely person, who thinks and knows when we would be missing him most and writes to share the memory of a lovely boy who we once had as a son…God bless her!
42.28 It is He, who sends down rain for them when they have lost all hope, and He unfolds His Mercy; He is the Protector, Worthy of all Praise.
Siraat-e-Mustaqeem 
Asalaam o alikum Brother Anis,
Thank you for sharing moments that sometimes even the mind refuses to recreate.
As for the rain……….it reminds me of Allah’s promise:
La taknatu mer Rahmatullah (Never despair of the mercy of Allah) surah Zumar
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Dear Sister
Asslamulaikum. When I buried my only chld I was in a trance. As if I was looking at a family movie from a distance. I was doing everything as if I was doing t for a friend’s son. I remember taking Nabeel from the hospital to our parental house, my father sitting in a chair infront of Nabeel’s coffin. Nabeel’s mother came down with the help of some relatives to look at him for the last time. Then I asked my father for permission to tke Nabeel to our house. We spent some time there. I was sitting by his side and who ever came to look at him I was the one who removed the shroud from his face. I couldnot trust any one else to do it. Then zanaza prayer was held in his medical school and in the mosque where Nabeel used to say jumma prayer. We then took him to the graveyard. I went down to the grave along with Nabeel’s uncle and my uncle. I positioned his face towards Mecca and the I touched his cheek with the back of my hand, it was so cold. My last touch of my son whom I cared for 20 years. From that time I donot remember anything definite.
You are luchy that Tariq’s friends keep intouch. But Nabeel’s friends hardly talk to me. It may be grief, guilt, indifference, who knows. May be they want to spare me from the pain.
It rains often in Dhaka at this time of the year. In the huge cemetery there sre times when I am alone infront of nabeel and the sky is pouring out, dark rain clouds making day into dusk. I really feel very much at peace at those times. Maybe rain does have a spiritual meaning.
Regards
Anisur Rahman
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