“Would you be my wife Farah?”
“You certainly have not met my parents yet.”
“I did.”
“What did they say?”
“I should go away.”
“Because I’m sick?”
“No. Because they think I should be happy with someone else.
Someone that will take care of me for the rest of my life.”
“… Good. Now why would you ask me for a hand in marriage, Wafiy?”
“Because… I don’t need someone to take care of me.
All I want is to take care of you for the rest of my life.”
_______________________________________________
That is what Wafiy
did, for the past 40 years of marriage.
Farah had been
hospitalized numerous times. Going in and out of the hospital getting her
heart-cancer treatment. She felt helpless when the doctor said she has to stay
in the hospital because she has reached her final stage.
I am going to die.
I am going to leave my husband and my six handsome sons.
She thought.
Other cancers could have been treated successfully.
But mine…
Every second just hurt as one by one of my organs have stopped working.
My heart is broken... Literally.
The sound of my heart crumpled into tiny pieces, when it should be
beating,
Not only crushed my feelings, but Wafiy’s.
Be strong dear husband, I can’t talk anymore.
I can feel your existence
But I could not open my eyes as I live dependent on this machine.
It hurts.
My heart hurts.
As much as I want to stay but please…
Please…
…
Let me go.
______________________________________________
“10 percent left?! Of
what?! My wife’s life?!”
“Mr. Wafiy – “
“What are you? Allah? God? You can’t predict my wife’s
life!”
“Babah calm down – “
“Stop it Kamal!”
“Babah let’s just listen to the doctor – “
“I said – “
“Just listen to the –
“
“SHUT IT KAMAL!”
“NO! YOU SHUT IT!”
Wafiy looked
bewildered as his eldest son cried.
“For the past 37 years of my life Babah, I believe… Mama
had suffered. Not from the point I had been born but at the point when you
hadn’t even met her yet.”
Kamal looked at
his father; Wafiy stared ahead.
“She is tired Bah…
Tired. Getting treatment even though she knew – we knew it’s going to end up
like this. Why don’t we just doa
banyak-banyak for her instead of throwing rages and going mad. That is just
going to hurt her more. And you too.”
____________________________________________
Three days past and Farah’s heart beats slowly. Wafiy
sat beside Farah’s bed and gazed at his lovely wife’s face.
When do we get so old love?
I didn’t realize that your soft, firm skin on your face has turned to
wrinkles.
I bet I don’t look as handsome as we first met huh?
But that’s not fair…
Because you are still the most beautiful woman that I have ever met.
Please… Wake her up Allah.
I want her to wake up and look at me.
I wouldn’t be able to let her go.
But if that is YOUR will, then…
Just wake her up and let me see
those beautiful eyes again.
And those beautiful eyes opened slowly and met his gaze. No words were coming out of his mouth. Wafiy could not take his eyes of her and
when he sees a glimpse of hope, those beautiful eyes shut again.
___________________________________________
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The signal light on the machine that indicates Farah’s oxygen level was green.
Wafiy started
reciting the Qur’an, Surah Yaasin, hoping that Farah would wake up and call his name while he is reciting.
However, that beeping sound became quicker. Wafiy
looked up and the signal light fluctuated from green to yellow consecutively.
Doctor came in and out checking on Farah’s condition and did their best to help her. Wafiy recited more and after awhile he
checked again the signal light.
Beep – beep. Beep – beep. Beep – beep.
The more rapid the beeping sound, the harder he recited.
Until…
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
The signal light turned red.
Wafiy stopped.
He tried to carry on but he felt his lungs had reached his
throat. He stood up, shaking. He gripped his wife’s shoulder and shook her up.
“Don’t leave me Farah! Please… Please don’t leave me!” Wafiy wailed.
He could not hide his tears anymore. He bawled out and that
was the first time his sons ever see him cry. The youngest son Harris, 18 years old, cried the most after
Wafiy.
He took his wife’s face in his hands and embraced that
beautiful face one last time. His tears running down his cheeks as he sobbed.
I will see you soon my love…
I hate to see you go before me,
But I make a promise to Allah and He granted it.
I have to let you go…
Wait for me Farah…
Wait for your dear husband in Jannah.
[This short piece of writing is adapted from a true story.
The names used are not the real names of the people involved in the real
situation, therefore the name and plots written in this story is purely
coincidental and has nothing to do with the living or the dead.]
To
Nini Uda, May Allah put you among those who believe, Aamiin.
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