When the time finally arrives

The thought of nearing my death, dances in my mind nearly every other time, you know, knowing when my time would be up.

If i knew when it would be, if i had the knowledge of whether i had an hour, a day, a week, a month or maybe an year, how i would make the final moments count? How would i live?

And, more often than not, i have answers, vague at sometimes but at other times so vivid that it makes me yearn for those last moment.

My answers you ask? It would be standing in prayer all night, all day asking the AlRahman to have mercy on my sinful soul, to grant me the goodness of the hereafter, to finally grant me peace on my very last moments.

Living alone in one room apartment away from the noise of the city, starting my days with prayers and a cup of tea contemplating the life i had lived.

Learning salsa, dancing, swaying freely and carelessly in high heels and red dresses, alone in my room with no one to witness.

Doing humanly impossible yoga poses, bending, stretching, expressing, breathing.

Finishing on my ‘ reading list’ reliving the character’s lives, learning from their experiences, mistakes and lessons. Holding the characters near to my heart as they keep me company on my moments of truth.

But most importantly, writing, writing so hard, so true that even after i am long gone my story lives on for eternity, writing so hard that i would unleash all the pain of the past, crying for what lies beyond, hoping, praying and writing even more.

But then, it hits me, what guarantees i would live that way on my final days? What if i wouldn’t be ready? What if i would need more time? More life? More breaths? What if all i would want to do is lie on my mother’s lap crying, asking for more? What if all i would want is my father’s presence, holding my hand? What if i wouldn’t be ready to leave my siblings just yet ? What if they would still need me? What if i would want to attend more wedding of my sisters, cousins, best friends? What if i would want to celebrate successes of fawash smiley? My soul sister. Witness her grow as a great poet? Cheer her one more time, go to her events, concerts? What if i would want to be the bride’s maid to my best friend’s, fartun, wedding? Witness her as a mother? Attend her graduations, celebrate her, See her become a nurse? See her grow tremendously?

What about all the other amazing people in my life? What if i would still want to be close to them, celebrate and experience life with?

What if i would want to hold the love of my life? Make love with him, Cook for him, share a meal with him, care for him, love him and annoy him one more time?

What if i would still want to see myself grow as a person, as writer?

What if i would want to have a chance to write A wife, A mother, A writer on my bio?

What if i still hadn’t gotten answers to my life yet?

Will all that matter at the end?

More than these what ifs that keep me awake at night?

What if i would not be able to answer the angels when they ask: man rabuka who is your lord? Man nabiyuka who is your prophet? Ma dinuka what is your religion?

What if i would not be able to answer my lord when He asks about my salah? About what i did with my time? With my youth? With my wealth? With my knowledge?

What if i wouldn’t get Jannah, see the prophet peace be upon him? Listen to his stories, experience the sweetness of paradise?

What then?

Will my earthly concerns even matter? Will it matter if i wrote one more article? Attended one more wedding? Made love one more time?

And those what ifs sometimes encourage me to focus on what matters and sometimes scares me to death, about death.

They give me the desire to make one more extra effort every single day to please my lord, to live life with no regrets, to be ready for when the time finally arrives.


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Love, always