So long, farewell

It started. The waterworks. Last week.
I’m not sure what brought it on exactly, but all of a sudden I was thinking about all the things I wouldn’t have anymore, wouldn’t see, wouldn’t experience, and I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

It was all the little things that set me off – it always is! How I wouldn’t see these friendly faces that I had gotten so used to seeing frequently, how I wouldn’t see the sky at this part of the world, how the sights and smells and sounds and tastes were things I had taken so much for granted, that I hadn’t savoured them in all the time I had been here.
It’s not that I didn’t want to move, or I was regretting it; I accepted the idea that I would not be here – I knew I wasn’t going to live here forever anyway, and I didn’t want to – I was happy to move on. But when your entire life up until then is being taken away, the emotions are bound to catch up at some point!

So there I was having a few days of sniffles and red eyes, and telling myself to let it go, when we had seerah class. Have I mentioned that I love seerah? With this teacher specifically. She makes us relate to it, Allahumma barik, in a way that just reading a book on the same will never make possible.
I’ve realised that every time the discussion about moving comes up in our family is when we talk about hijrah in one of my many seerah classes. It’s amazing how Allah swt gives us what we need to hear in any which way.
This time’s seerah class was not specifically about hijrah, but it touched upon it, the main topic being the ray of hope that Hamzah (ra) and Umar (ra) were when they became Muslim. What followed was a lot of attempting to convince the Prophet (pbuh) to give up his mission, and finally resulting in the boycott.

They were boycotted for 3 years, dragged out of their houses in the middle of whatever they were doing, and banished to the valley. It leaves haunting images in the mind, like that of a movie, with wardrobes left open, a plate of half eaten food, toys scattered, furniture overturned – life on pause.
The amazing thing to note about this boycott is that it consisted of two tribes of the Prophet (pbuh)’s family, and not all of them were Muslim. They put up with three years of hunger pangs that couldn’t be satisfied, the screams and cries of children with the pains of starvation, and the hardships of living without the comforts of their homes – which is nothing compared to the comforts we have today – only because of tribalism. That’s some strong family tie!

Listening to all this, it put things in perspective. We have learnt time and again that dunya is only temporary, and we accept that, but it takes listening to stories like this to iron out the wrinkles in our heart that are still seeped with the comforts of our life.

The things we have, the people we see, the sounds, the feel, the smells – are all just for a while. They may change and we’ll get used to living without them. We’ll get used to experiencing more of what Allah has created and appreciating that. What matters is holding onto Him all through it. Because we can have the world and not have Allah, and we will be miserable. Or we can have nothing but have Him, and it will feel like we have the world.

While writing this, I couldn’t help thinking of other people I know who have moved away due to different reasons, and I wondered if they felt the same. They have settled into their lives now, and are where they currently are the same way they were here – with roots set in. Of course there will be things we miss, but there are always new things to be acquainted with.
And there’s always Jannah to aim for – the ultimate goal. That will make everything here, every tear shed for something in this world seem pointless.

Because that, that is where we want to be. That is where we will never want to move away from.
May Allah make us from them! Ameen!

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