The Final Conversation With the Speechless Boy- A Disability Story

Noor has departed from this world. He shines on in the next. The last 6 months had been difficult because his health kept deteriorating.

Due to other ventures my visits also turned less frequent. It gave me a lot of joy at the fact that he used to smile often when he heard my voice.

I was there to see him on his last day. I had a strong feeling that it was his last few hours remaining. I felt a strong presence of light all around him. Angels were waiting for the moment to wrap his soul with the martyr’s robes. He was a warrior to the end.

His soul rests ever untainted, his resurrection too will signify purity. A sound heart!

What was my last conversation with Noor about? I reminded him that these were the best 10 days and the final month of the year, Dhul hijjah. His desire to reject eating and drinking signified his will to fast these last days of his life. His desire? It would be rather proper to say his forbearance.

Our last conversation were prayers. I prayed for him and I hoped that he did for me. He was silent through out it all. But I knew he could hear me. Why was I the last person besides his family to be with him in his last moments? I don’t know the answer to this. Why was it that his last moments were written on the day that I visited him? I am still pondering over the time I spent with him, caring for him.

What lessons were there to learn for me? What was he trying to teach me? He tried his best to elevate me. I hope that some of those experiences go on to stay with me. Looking after him was like feeding my soul, guiding it. Now he is no more, and my ravenous soul may dry up. I am seeking an anchor to keep my soul centred. I am seeking light. It is easy to wander in darkness, it takes courage to be the warrior of light.

His body looked at peace in shrouds. A sort of smile on his face. It reminded me of these verses:

يا ايتهاالنفس المطمئنة. ارجعى إلى ربك راضية مرضية. فادخلي في عبدي. وادخلي جنتي.

Still Searching

Standing in front of the mirror, in search of a different me. How is it that I can see myself, but cannot see my thoughts. The very thoughts that remain buried in the depths, it’s a struggle to scream them out! In the mirror, I see many faults. I see some good in me too.
Standing at the door, I step outside in search of a different me. How is it that I feel caged inside the four walls, but cannot escape those thoughts. The very thoughts that remain buried in the depths, it’s a struggle to scream them out! Standing at the door, I see the cage I am in, I see open scenery in front of me too.
Standing on the road, I start to walk in search of a different me. How is it that I walk with no destination in sight. I hear a call, “To Me you belong, To Me you shall return.”

Sometimes I write to release stress but also, to see what I have written as I read it back because in that moment, I am able to connect the ideas and writing with my thought patterns, my weaknesses, and see where I can influence a change. These spontaneous yet, linked thoughts help me a tiny bit to see things in myself that a mirror doesn’t show me. Writing is a form of therapy for me. Better written out than buried in my head. It doesn’t matter how it sounds so long as it helps.