Assalamu Alaikum My Dear Readers,
This past weekend has been one of the most tiring weekends I’ve dealt with since you left. I decided that I wanted to jump back into my business, Sincerely Azizah, and just go for it. I pushed myself a little, I’ll admit it, but I wasn’t doing anything but being sad at home, so I felt like this would have been the perfect opportunity for me to get back out there.
What people saw on the outside of my first business adventure was me preparing for these pre-Ramadan events, but what they didn’t see was the tears that came along with it. Who would have thought that working could be such a trigger for me? I cried so many times while preparing my products to sell. Not because I didn’t want to do it, but it just reminded me how far along I would’ve been by now. Knowing myself, I most likely wouldn’t be doing this at all if you were still here. You probably would have been the size of a watermelon by now, and I’m sure of that.
During the weekend, a friend of mine came up to me and told me that they pass the cemetery where you are buried every day on their way to work. She told me that she makes Dua for you and us every single time she passes it. She gave me a hug and gave me words of encouragement, which lead to tears. So many people asked me how I’m doing and all I could say is… “As good as I can be…” because that’s the truth.
Another conversation that took place was actually kind of interesting. I wore my lilac hoodie with your name on it. Then a woman asked me if I was a part of this organization that helps Muslim victims of domestic violence find support and shelter. The group's name was Asiyah Women’s Center and they wear the color purple, but I told her that I wasn’t. I told her, “I wear this hoodie for my daughter. She passed away in January.” And at that moment — I was proud that I was able to speak up on your behalf and not feel bad about telling people my daughter died. I can see that she didn’t know what to say afterwards so I reassured her that it was okay and she doesn’t have to say anything. She apologized, but in my head, I didn’t need her to.
Conversations after loss have been so unpredictable. Sometimes It’s awkward, It can be beautiful, or it can be so painful. I’m learning to keep my answers short and simple and make sure to be aware of who I decide to share my story with and when the time is right. I’m learning to live with the fact that not everybody would want to hear my sob story every single time they speak to me. It’s been hard to not bring up my daughter all the time, and I do understand that everything takes time. But these are just a few things that I’m so very conscious about every day since you’ve been gone. So many thoughts flood my brain. Even when I’m not thinking about you, I’m still thinking about you! I don’t know how it makes sense, but the other moms that I’ve met that are going through the same thing, have reassured me that they have these feelings too. My grief and grief, in general, are unexplainable, but I try my best to put them into words to let them out.
I have lost friends, I’ve realized my real ones, but I’ve also made some new ones. And during this grief journey, I’ve specifically developed a new kind of friendship. I will not name this person that I speak of, but if she’s reading this, she knows exactly who she is. She visited my booth to purchase something from me and when we hugged, I immediately started sobbing. A small window of happiness. I felt a connection. I often wonder what you may have been like as a baby, a little girl— Your personality is who I think of; what I might have wished Asiyah would have been like as an adult. So kind, genuine, caring, and beautiful, masha’Allah. Only Allah (swt) knows! It's the feeling of comfort and a sense of security. I can speak my child's name and vent about vulnerable feelings and know that you are just one of the many people that give me a safe space to do so. And I know it sounds so crazy when I type this out —- But only I know what this feeling feels like. You remind me that this world and my grief CAN be beautiful. There’s some kind of bond and sense of comfort that your words and Duas bring into my life.
When I see you, my dear friend, I find patience, love, and remembrance of my daughter. I feel a sense of comfort and a sense of security. I can speak my child's name and vent about vulnerable feelings and know that even though you didn’t even know her, and we didn’t know each other like that prior to her death, I’m in a safe space. You told me that “To love is to feel, sometimes in ways beyond words.”
Your kindness has definitely found a place in my heart as well. But please do not mistake this as a bad reminder or trigger for me. Memories are where our loved ones continue to live after they’re gone; this is why we hold onto objects that remind us of them and go to places where they feel near.
Every time I visit Asiyah’s grave, I think to myself that we truly are just a spec in this world that we know absolutely nothing about. My daughter is gone. I have two amazing beautiful kids at home! But I’m open to letting Nur (light), warmth, and comfort in, to remind my kids that by the will of Allah (swt) Asiyah’s presence will always be around even during these dark times.
I know that in time the “grief triggers” that once will cause us sadness will eventually fill us with a sense of love and an even more remembrance for Allah (swt) — Insha’Allah. I pray that Allah (swt) heals our pain, calms our hearts, and reunites us with our loved ones in the hereafter. Ameen. 💜🦋
