We’ve already established the hurt of rejection; when you feel safe with the one person you chose to spend the rest of your life with through thick and thin – only for that to be stopped short for no apparent reason. It confuses you – you try to pinpoint a valid reason so you think you everything and nothing – you think of all the times you were treated badly and all the times you felt like the luckiest person on earth. You think of all the times you took him for granted – all your flaws and annoying habits – and then all the times you prayed for him and wept for him without his knowledge – just wanting him to be happy, to be successful, to love you endlessly.
You maintain your defense of him when people – shocked – inquire what happened. “But you never stopped speaking about him – you were so in love?” The words pierce the heart with the deadliest poison.
I thought we were so in love, too. But interventions happen which convince people to think and feel otherwise.
You attend an iftar with friends at the very restaurant he took to you to the day after you wedding . You fight to keep all emotions clasped within and hidden – but they overflow and before you know it they’ve reached your eyes. The atmosphere feels so familiar you pick your phone up to almost text him. Almost to ask him what time he’s picking you up. Almost to wish him a happy iftar. Almost to tell him that you couldn’t wait to see him when you came back home, and tell him of all the stories and conversations. Almost.
Every time a qari’ with a beautiful voice reads in taraweeh your mind immediately flashes to him – to the beautiful taraweeh prayers you attended together in Manchester and Jordan – the countless times you prayed together, as you stood behind him fighting to keep your khushou’ as you admired the pious deep-voiced man standing before you; the man you felt so lucky to have.
You fall into the self-blame game. Whilst people reassure you that what is meant to be won’t miss you, and that God’s plan is above all – that He will grant you better and heal your wounds – you think of God granting Him better. The thought of not being the best for the one person you loved endlessly, kills you. You try to mask your pain with smiles – with conversation, knowing deep inside you still wish all those smiles and conversations were meant for none but him. What if it were all your fault? What if your taking him for granted – thinking you’ll never reach this point, is what made this situation of you? What if you’re just a really bad person Razan, and you deserve no one as amazing as him.
‘Stop remembering the good stuff – it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine – you know it’, they say, I know – but neither was it doom and gloom and I always knew light to be far stronger than dark – and more often than not light overpowered. But in light of all this, I understand now how the fixation on the small brings about destruction – and the dismissal of that which we take for granted bears us losses greater than we imagined.
My heart wrenches at the loss of a person I’d wish to die before he did, because the mere thought of separation would break me. The several times I pondered over whether separation of death would be easier – I always chose death. Because in death there’s comfort knowing you were separated by a force greater than you – and not by personal choice. That in the hereafter you’d be reunited in (we pray) gardens of ultimate beauty and peace. But with separation comes rejection – comes pain – comes unloved love and unwanted care – and a heart which continues to throb with excruciating pain.
But light. I know there’s only birth after the pain enveloping my heart – and perhaps the more excruciating the pain, the sweeter the fruits after the birth. I no longer want to dwell in the hurt – it brings back heart-wrenching nostalgia and an uncontrollable yearning to return to a life forbidden upon me, now. I want to excel and flourish – re-align myself in both the celestial and terrestrial – purify my heart – antisepticize the wound. I want to stop missing him, stop my eyes from crying every time something reminds me of him. I want a complete dissociation – whilst knowing that he’s okay. Praying that he’s content now and in a much better place. That he flourishes and succeeds – and gains all his hearts desires. That he distinguishes between the destructive and the constructive – regardless of the relationship with the adviser.
People have asked me if I could ever forgive – seeing the depth of my hurt – yet the questions which pose in my mind are – how can I not forgive when our Lord the Almighty is the Most Merciful, the Most Kind? How can I not forgive someone on the path to memorising the Qur’an? How can I not forgive someone who made me a better person in certain aspects of my deen? How can I not forgive someone knowing if I were in his place I wouldn’t be able to sleep the night – nor live my life, until I was forgiven? Someone who made mistakes towards me – but beneath all the mess and confusion – has a pure heart. I know he does. To act irresponsibly in marriage is grave – but time yields experiences, and time gives chances to repent – to learn – to implement. And for that reason, I forgive. Because hate doesn’t exist in a heart which once loved ceaselessly, nor does love ever vanish completely.
Lord give me strength to remain strong in this position of forgiveness, to not fall in pits of bitterness and despair. Lord make this calamity befallen me a means to reach you – and know you – turn it a blessing ya Allah. And bless him, bless him abundantly with all what the prophet pbuh asked for, and grant him the best in this life and the hereafter.