Trying to inspire myself by watching others has not worked. Watching others can sometimes become boring and tedious. It is the same movement again and again……..
The movements of Salah done by others do not mean a thing because one is veiled from the inner spiritual world that each person carries within him or her during Salah.
And so it has been for me in the preceding weeks of Tariq. Imran and Ebad’s death anniversary.
I have been slowed down by fatigue of the mind and body….coming to a screeching halt on the 13th.
All day I try to pray to lift the dark cloud that hangs over me. Yet my feet drag, as does my soul.
Until the evening comes and just before Asar I realize this is my last chance to stand for Nafil. It is an act of Congress, to get me going. My movements are slow as molasses.
I use my small Tajwidi Quran to read the first half of Surah Yaseen in the first rakah and the second half in the second rakah and somewhere along the way the feeling of being weighted down dissipates, without leaving a trace of the heaviness that was weighing me down.
I go to the gravesite and read Surah Yaseen again and the breeze moves the chimes gently to and fro giving relief in the 100-degree humid weather and welcoming me to the peace of the last abode of Ammi, Tariq, Imran and Ebad.
I am reminded of all that he did not take with him. His beloved 68 Camaro that he restored by hand one section at a time, his computer, his camera, and his numerous photos and letters, his prized soccer shoes………but he took his friends with him, on this long faraway journey, he took his childhood buddy.
In the confusion of grief when the shadows of the upcoming date engulf me, I try to keep my destination in sight. it seems so far and yet so close. I crawl on the flimsy edifice that I have built with prayer, sabr and salah. The edifice has huge gaps in it where the twigs of emaan, give me strength off and on to crawl on towards my destination.
He is gone and I must keep my eye on the goal.
Below my makeshift flimsy bridge, flows the raging river of grief, ready to receive me, cover me and drown me into oblivion.
This has been a week of in-action; my crawl has slowed down to almost a stop.
Looking down into the thrashing waves sometimes I want to let go of these flimsy supports I have built, to free fall into the raging river of grief and let the waters of memory and pain cover me………….and then I stop……….. I must get to my destination……….inshallah Jannah, where I can get the solace of my Lord, and the company of His Messenger, where all struggle ends in the House of Peace.