Expedition ... Continues

Assalaamu Alaikum Wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatuhu,

I see my sister walking towards the entrance gate at the airport. My eyes follow her till she is lost in the crowd, till I see no more of her black gown. I stand there oblivious of swarming people around me but fully aware of the feelings of the two persons by my side. They are my Parents. But I dare not look at them; I dare not interrupt their thoughts. We’ve signed a Silent contract: not to bug each other at this moment. And we understand this Quietness.

We wait. She said she’ll be back after the luggage is gone. Moments pass by slowly. Really Slowly. I try to indulge my mother into talking to me, but after a few replies she is quiet again. She looks tired.

Father is in deep thoughts himself. I am thinking of the topic that’ll interest him the most. I come up with the different technologies used at the Airport, the flight announcement boards [Or whatever that is called!?] for instance. But for the first time in life, he’s got shortest and précised answers to all my questions.

Words are not helping. I was never good at words anyway. Time passes in a very upsetting way, while we play with our thoughts and stand there unsure of the future. My sister returns after ages [at least that’s what it feels like]. I want to hug her, I want her to stay. I want to talk to her, standing there and then, all night! But she has more important matters at hand.

Isn’t it good? Keep yourself busy so you’ve less time to think about what hurts. I don’t know why your loved ones have to leave you. Why do you have to go through these severely painful moments of Separation? If this is just some stupid rule of life, then I don’t like it.

There she goes again. This time she won’t be returning. My father takes the lead towards the Parking Lot, but my mother is hesitant. She wants to call my sis to make sure she won’t be coming out again OR to make her realize she already misses her?

I take my mother’s hand in my hand. Hold it tight. I want her to understand she is not alone. As we drag ourselves towards the Lot, my father gets hold of my other hand, and we walk on the way to our car, hands in hands.

While I hold hands with my parents, I know I share a strong bond with them. We share each others’ lives. For an obvious reason, our happiness and sorrows are the same. I never thought I’ll be the last one to go, but for some strange reason, I am enjoying it. I have full attention of my parents now, just as I used to imagine when I was a kid. I tighten the grip on my parents’ hand, so they don’t let go.

I deliberately take small steps; I want to last it longer. The breeze seems to synchronize with our walk, making the surroundings soothing. The time has stopped, or am I imagining it? I no longer can hear the noises around me, but only the peace entering my soul. Everything seems to honor this moment, as it observes silently. It feels like the most appropriate thing happening around, and I love every millisecond of it.

I keep my eyes at the three shadows in front of us, thinking it’s the most beautiful chain of shadows I’ve ever seen. No one can ever break it, because it’s not physical anyway. Love resides in just every part of our souls; the “touch” only connects the hearts!

For once, we don’t need words. We’ve agreed to Allah’s will, and treasure what we’re left with.

The walk lasts five minutes. Five minutes of pure bliss and satisfaction. I eventually let go of my parents hands, sure of one thing:

Our bond is stronger than anything, it doesn’t need words to communicate each others’ feelings, to comfort each other and I know we’ll be there for each other no matter what; after all, We’re Family! [ALHUMDULILLAH]

Is Taudi’u Kum’Ullah.