This is the continues story from before.. Well, frankly speaking.. My internet sorta broke down last week so i have a lot of free time that I decided to write. This is initially from an Idea of an Islamic English Novel that I've thought of 2 years ago. Alas, I have yet to write about it.
^^,
p.s: I've finished reading 'The Scarlet Letter', my first classic literature novel! It is fanta-bulous!
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(..Continue)
I woke up by the sound of someone reading, no, reciting to be precise. It’s so beautiful that my tears were on the verge of lashing out again. I’ve heard it countless times but I never felt this overwhelming before. It was a Quran recitation; the most beautiful melody ever heard. If I could choose my way of dying, I would choose to die with recitation of the Quran accompanied me through my dying day, reminding me that I’m only a step away to meeting my Creator.
“Mardiyyah,” Someone called out my name. The Quran recitation had stopped. Slowly I opened my eyes and saw my grandma standing over me. She was wearing her white praying attire and looked down at me with such concern eyes. “Grandma..?” I slowly rise up to a sitting position. Ouch, my head still hurts though.
“What happened?” She asked, typical grandma.
“I don’t really know. I was about to ask you. The last thing I remember was…?” Wait, what was the last thing I remember? I recalled having a headache and heartache, but what was the cause of it? Grandma must have notice my long pause that she cut me, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, do have some rest okay? I do not want you out of the bed.”
“But I haven’t pray my Zuhr,” I said with an innocent face. “What?! It’s almost 3.30pm. Now, my Dear,” Grandma said, forcing me to get out of the bed. How ironic.
I quickly perform my Zuhr prayer but my mind could not stop thinking about my sudden blackout a moment ago. Oh Allah, I need to focus! Stop it. Whatever it is, it can wait after I finish performing my prayer. It’s kind of ironic, few months ago I could not careless about Salah and yet, now I was trying so hard to focus in one. A lot has been going on with me this past few weeks but I’m glad. I’m glad that the changes I did for myself was the right one. But yet, something was bothering me.
After I gave my second salam, Grandma came inside my room and sat on my bed. I looked at her with an invisible question mark on my head. Grandma just shook her head and gestured to me to ignore her present there. I turned around and lift my hand to read my after prayer du’a. I did not really have a specific du’a most likely because I haven’t memorize one but I have a du’a that I created myself that only Allah knew. After I finished, I went to my Grandma and kiss her hand. She looked at me with those soft eyes when I looked up and saw a tear about to escape her right eye.
“Grandma? Are you okay?” I asked, sounded concern. I was concern about her. She was the closest one to me, even closer than my parents ever were to me. I didn’t like to see her sad, much less cry. I rose up and sat beside her.
She was suddenly aware of that tear and wiped it away. “Oh, nothing dear. I’m just… a bit touched seeing you like this,” she said, looking at me. She must be referring to my changes. I looked away, suddenly embarrassed. Grandma was the happiest person when she knew that I started wearing a Hijab and started practicing Islam back. In fact, she supported me the most that she started to give advice and motivational words in order to keep my spirit up. I never could get through that rough patch if it wasn’t for grandma’s hand helping me through.
I looked back at grandma but before I could say anything she hugged me. This time, she really did cry. I hugged her back and buried my head in her long gray hair. I could not cry but I could feel tears started to fill up but it refuses to go out. After awhile, we sat there with nothing but silent. Words cannot convey how thankful I am to Allah for giving me such a wonderful grandma.
The doorbell rang that broke our tranquil moment. Grandma quickly wiped away her tears while I suddenly became aware of reality. “Who’s that?” I asked grandma. Grandma shook her head slowly while retreating to her room to wear her scarf. I quickly took off my praying attire and fold them as neatly and hurriedly as I could and reached out for my Hijab. Luckily I was wearing a decent long sleeve t-shirt and a slack pants so it did not took me much time to cover my Aurah.
It was a reflex thing that I learnt from the past weeks. No matter if it was a female or male, I would dress properly before opening the door. Grandma got to the door first before me. Behind the door revealed a guy about my age with a messy brown hair and an annoying smile that made my interest of knowing who the mystery guest was decrease rapidly.
“Oh, it’s you,” I said with an indifferent tone and went inside the living room.
(To be continue...)
