Time To Heal by Norhafsah Hamid

A N NP ot u Fo bli r S cat ale ion

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Norhafsah Hamid

Published by:

www.imanpublication.com

A N NP ot u Fo bli r S cat ale ion

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“Wherever you may be, death will overtake you, even if you should be within towers of lofty construction.”

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Quran 4:78

Chapter 5

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Year 2006, Liverpool.

Hassan was seated at his balcony, over-looking the dock. It is his favourite spot in his house. A hot steaming mug of coffee was on the round table, next to his lounge chair.

When his parents told him years ago that they wanted to

purchase an apartment in Liverpool, Hassan requested for a place near Albert Dock. They offered to buy a place nearer to the hospital so that it would be easier for him to commute back and forth but Hassan turned down the offer. He didn’t mind travelling to work because of

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the view that the place offers.

The view of the sea gave him tranquillity even on the worst of

days. This is his escape from the work stress. The sea calms him down.

The birds make him smile. The magnificent sunrises and the beautiful sunsets are constant reminder to him of God’s Mercy and Majesty. He

had a lot to be thankful for.

Hassan looked up. The sky was clear with only splatter of stars making their entrance. The moon had decided to not make a show. Perhaps the moon was tired or maybe it had a bad day, thought Hassan, ruefully.

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He had just come back from the hospital, after a very long shift.

Today was exceptionally difficult for him. So far, Hassan has been able to handle news concerning death pretty well but today was different, as he was sitting in for Professor David’s consultation clinic.

There was a fifteen year-old boy, who was diagnosed with Leukaemia.

Hassan saw the expression on the face of the patient, as well as the

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parents’ faces when Professor David broke the news to them.

The boy had been unwell for quite some time and had

unexplained bruises on his body. However, their health centre doctor couldn’t find the cause of his prolonged symptoms. Finally, the GP referred him to the hospital for further tests.

As Professor David explained the diagnosis to the boy and his

parents, Hassan remembered the almost exact scene that unfolded many years ago, with his own family. The only difference was, he was seated together with his family so he couldn’t see his parents’ expressions. He was also, too absorbed in his own shock, to even notice. This time, he was standing on the other side of the field. He

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could see the other side of the story.

The boy’s parents’ facial expressions change from anxious to

horror and finally, grief. When they turned to look at their son and saw the fear on his face, their expressions immediately changed to guarded.

They didn’t want their son to see their anguish or pain. They wanted their son to have hope. They wanted their son to have confidence and strength. They couldn’t show him any sign of weakness.

That’s what parents do…. to be strong for their children and hide their own fears.

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Hassan thought of how his own parents must have reacted back then and probably the same reaction. The look of disbelief and grief was an immediate reaction. Real emotions showed but upon realising their son’s vulnerability, they quickly stepped into the parents’ shoes, hid their own pain and put up a confident front.

More than anything, Hassan knew that the mom wanted to cry her heart out and the dad wanted to scream, but they withheld,

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because they didn’t want to scare their own son, who was already terrified by the diagnosis.

That is what parents do too; they comfort their child and

become the pillar to lean on. As much as they wanted to, they couldn’t crumble in front of their kids.

Hassan can imagine what went on in the boy’s head. He

probably thought that it was impossible that he was sick and that he was too young to die.

Hassan felt a prick of guilt.

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After seeing the parents of the boy, only now that he thought

of how his parents must have felt and gone through when Hussin was first diagnosed. He was too young to appreciate it then. He was too caught up with his own grief that he didn’t think of his parents’ feelings. Hassan felt that he should have been there for his parents but at fifteen years old, he didn’t know any better.

Standing behind Professor David, it took all his will power to not break down. The overwhelming feeling of regret washed over him.

Hassan felt as if he was watching his own life scene unfolding.

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The boy was only fifteen years old. The same age as Hussin when he was diagnosed. Still young. Still wet behind the ears.

Hussin and him were identical twins. From their looks and personalities, they were very much alike that it was difficult to tell them apart. Like most twins, they were very close. The bond they shared was physical, emotional, and also spiritual.

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They each knew what the other was thinking and could

finish each other’s sentences. When one of them got sick, the other would follow suit. They were loyal to each other. If one of them got into trouble; which was quite often; the other would also confess to the mischief. More often than not, both of them would be punished instead of one.

When Hassan and Hussin turned twelve years old, both

Maria and Nick decided to enrol them into an international Islamic integrated school. Prior to that, Hassan and Hussin went to regular primary school and had an Ustaz15 who came by to the house, three

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times a week, to teach them Quran recitation.

Both Hussin and Hassan were very playful in school but

funnily enough, they were able to sit through Quranic classes without fidgeting or any complaints. The Ustaz had a special way of capturing their attention and retaining their interest. He did not just teach the way to recite the Quran but also the history behind each verse. He told them stories of revelations and inspirations that got the boys hooked on the lessons. The boys always looked forward to the classes.

It was the Ustaz who suggested that both Hassan and Hussin be enrolled as tahfiz students as they both had the ability to memorise verses of the Quran very well. So, Nick found a school which integrated

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Islamic studies together with normal school syllabus and enrolled his boys in.

Much to their relief, the boys did well.

Both Hussin and Hassan were very mischievous, but they were also very good boys. They took studying Quran seriously and within two years, both of them became Hafeez.

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It was a proud moment for Maria and Nick.

Hassan brought himself back to the present and looked at

the boy. Professor David was explaining to the parents regarding treatment options that were available. Hassan couldn’t help wonder if the boy had an ambition of what he wants to be, later in life.

Whatever the ambition is, Hassan was pretty sure that the

boy’s ultimate ambition would be to be cancer-free and to be able to live longer. Hassan remembered his conversation with Hussin that night.

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“How are you feeling?” asked Hassan. He was perched on the

bed. Hussin was seated at the study table.

Hussin let out a long sigh. He stared at the wall for a few

minutes before turning to face Hassan.

“Mixed emotions, frankly. I was shocked at first but after it died down, I was filled with anger and resentment. I know that I sound surprisingly calm despite it all. I guess my brain is telling me the logic behind everything and to not succumb to my emotions. Now, I’m more worried about Mom and Dad. I’m sure they’re going through hell.”

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Hassan drew his lower lip between his teeth. Hussin is right, mom and dad are going through hell at the moment, but he is not going to tell Hussin that, he decided.

“I don’t know what to say, honestly,” Hassan admitted. His heart felt heavy. There were so many questions swirling inside his head. He was not sure if he was going to get the answers.

now?

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How did this happen? Why? Why Hussin, and not him? Why

Hassan was sure that the same questions were on Hussin’s

mind as well.

“You know, when the doctor told us about the cancer, the first

thing that came to my mind was the verse Inna Lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un16. From Him we belong and to Him we will return,” said Hussin, softly. He looked at Hassan with unshed tears in his eyes. “I’m going back to Him, Hassan.”

Hassan felt a lump in his throat. His eyes started to water. He

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too knew of the verse and the meaning of it but he was not ready for Hussin to return to God. Still, it was not up to him or Hussin. When their time is up, nothing or no one can stop it17. Still, it didn’t make it

any easier. He saw fear in Hussin’s eyes. It broke his heart.

Hassan got up and hugged Hussin. Tears flowed freely. They didn’t have secrets between them.

“Don’t worry brother. Insha-Allah, we will fight this,” said Hassan. He hugged Hussin tighter.

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“Insha-Allah. I am afraid. I don’t think that I’m ready to meet God, yet. I have too many sins,” sobbed Hussin. “I need time to put my affairs into order.”

“Shhh…. You’re still alive so that’s what matters. We’ll get through this together, insha-Allah.”

Hussin merely nodded his head. His emotions were in a

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shamble, but his head kept telling him to remember the meaning of the verses of the Quran that he had memorised.

When the session ended, Hassan was pulled back to the

present moment. He watched the family leave the room with their shoulders sagged down. A heavy burden had been placed on their shoulders. They must decide on the next course of action and the best treatment option.

Hassan knew that the next few days will be numb for them,

before reality sets in. In fact, Hassan would not be surprised if the parents were not really listening to Professor David’s explanation

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about treatment options, a moment ago. They must have been in shock.

That was the last patient of the day. When the session ended,

Professor David handed the chart to Elise, thanked Hassan and dashed out. He had a meeting to attend.

Elise clucked her tongue as she arranged all the patients’ files on the table.

“It’s always hard to see cancer takes the young ones. That boy has not tasted adulthood yet.”

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Hassan stared at the closed door and sighed. Elise was right.

It’s never easy to see young patients. One thing Hassan has learnt about cancer is that it doesn’t discriminate between age, gender or race.

“Oh, Hassan. I forgot to inform you. Mrs. Smith came by today and left you an invitation card.”

Hassan turned to look at Elise, “Invitation card? Is she having

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a birthday party?”

Mrs. Smith’s husband, Mr. Smith, was one of Hassan’s patients.

He passed away a month ago from pneumonia. He was seventy years old.

Elise threw her head back and laughed, “Birthday party?

Hassan, she’s sixty not six years old!” She rolled her eyes at him.

Hassan scratched his beard, “Well… we never know! I hear

people turning hundred throwing the biggest party of their lives. So, what’s the invitation for?”

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Elise’s voice dropped to an almost whisper, “She’s getting

married, again.”

Hassan’s eyes grew wide, “You’re joking! How long ago has it

been since Mr. Smith passed?”

Elise grinned, “Exactly one month.”

Hassan chuckled, “Wow! That was fast. I guess love is in the air.”

Elise nodded her head, “She came tis’ morning, gushing about how love found her again and at her age she didn’t want to wait.”

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“I see…. Did you get an invite?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Ah… okay. I shall check my schedule and see if I can pencil it in.”

“I’ve already done that for you.”

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Hassan looked surprised, “Why, thank you. That’s nice of you, Elise.”

Elise grinned cheekily, “Oh, I wanted to make sure that I have

someone I can drag to the wedding with me.”

Hassan gave Elise a questioning look, “What about Hamish?

Are you not going with him?”

Hamish is Elise’s Scottish husband. Hamish is tall meanwhile

Elise is petite. To Hassan, Hamish looks like a menacing Scottish Warrior but the truth is, he is as gentle as a lamb. Elise is more ferocious than him. Amy and Nieza adore him. To them, Hamish is exactly like

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the Highland Warriors in their romance books. The very first time when they saw Hamish dropped by the hospital to see Elise, and he was wearing a kilt. Both Amy and Nieza were instantly swooned with happiness. The only thing that was missing from him was a sword and a shield. Both girls have been Hamish’s number one fan ever since.

Elise laughed, “Nah, Hamish doesn’t do weddings. He even had to be dragged to ours. Hamish hates crowd.”

Hassan laughed at the image he was trying to conjure. He can’t imagine Hamish being dragged by anyone, being the giant that he is.

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“Okay, but I might drag Amy and Nieza with me, if they’re free.

I hope it’s alright with Mrs Smith.”

“I think it should be okay, between us, we can bring another two persons cos the card says ‘and partner’. Why did you look so shocked about Mrs. Smith finding new love?”

Hassan shrugged his shoulders, “Not used to it, I guess. In

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my religion, the widow has to observe a bereavement period of four months and ten days18 before she can remarry.”

It was Elise’s turn to look shocked, “Eh? Why is that? It sounds

a bit draconian to me. The husband is dead and buried so why should the wife wait? Not like the husband will come back from the dead.

Four months is such a loooooong time to remain celibate, if you know what I mean,” Elise winked knowingly at Hassan.

Hassan chuckled, “I know but the bereavement period is not

meant to punish the wife. It’s more of giving the wife proper time to grieve, mourn, reflect, and pay her respects. Also, the waiting period

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is to establish if the widow is pregnant. If she is, then waiting period will remove any doubt as to the paternity of the unborn child. If she’s pregnant, then she has to wait until the child is born before she can remarry19. If she’s allowed to marry any man as soon as she buries her late husband, then if she is found to be pregnant with a child, it can get complicated, you know.”

Elise nodded her head slowly, “Ah…aye…make sense. I can see where the ruling is coming from.”

“Plus, it will prevent the widow from rushing into another relationship when she is still feeling emotionally unstable and insecure.

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Like being on a rebound. It will also keep unwanted suitors away.

Would you remarry so soon if, God forbids, Hamish dies?”

Elise blanched at the idea, “God no! I think I would take quite a while to grieve.”

“See……” Hassan widened his eyes, proving his point.

Elise nodded her head, “Now, I see the wisdom behind it.

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Being on a rebound is very dangerous indeed. Might end up with the wrong person. After all the sadness have gone and the emotions have settled down, one might find the new person is not the one after all and by that time, it might be too late.”

“Exactly!”

“You know, it’s funny that I never really thought about this

before but it’s really interesting that Islam really put thoughts into issues that we often take for granted. I have to admit that I’m impressed.”

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Hassan grinned. “Does that mean that you might even consider

becoming a Muslim?” Hassan asked jokingly.

“Well… who knows! Like what the girls always say… insha-

Allah,” replied Elise, giving Hassan a wink. He grinned broadly.

“Ameen,” replied Hassan.

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A N NP ot u Fo bli r S cat ale ion “And it is He who takes your souls by night and knows what you have committed by day.”

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Quran 6:60

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Chapter 8

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“Dad, I can’t feel my fingers,” complained Hassan. He showed his hands to Nick. His teeth were chattering from the cold. It was minus five today and it has been snowing heavily the last few days.

They were in Scotland.

Nick wiped the snow off Hassan’s head, “Where are your

gloves? Why didn’t you wear them?” He held Hassan’s hands to warm them up. Hassan’s hands were beginning to get wrinkly.

“I think it’s with Mom. I asked her to hold them when I was

making the snowman with Hussin. “It was difficult to hold the snow with the gloves on.”

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“Go and get your gloves else your hand will turn blue from

cold,” said Nick.

Hassan ran towards Maria who was helping Hussin with the

snowman, a few meters away. He slugged through the thick snow and made his way to her. Hussin was laughing as he pushed the carrot into the snow man’s face.

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Year 2008, Liverpool.

It was a Saturday.

The three friends were sitting at the balcony, watching the sun set. It was summer.

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The yellow ball of fire changed to hues of orange, and then almost tangerine. The sky was rich hues of red blended with orange, purple and crimson. It was like a canvas splayed with vibrant colours.

Silhouettes of birds flew home across the sky, in a trance-like dance.

The sun was half into the water, but its reflection in the sea made it look complete. The day was giving up its throne and the night was claiming it, gracefully.

Three dark shadows of bodies could be seen seated on the

chairs at the balcony.

“You know, your place is superb! I can never get tired of

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watching the sunsets. It’s both sad and majestic, at the same time,” said Amy, sighing. She had a faraway look on her face.

“Yes, I agree,” Nieza chirped. “There’s a certain sadness in the

sun setting. I guess it’s knowing the possibility that we might not see the sun again tomorrow. Do you know, that when we sleep, we actually die? If our time is not up, we will be awakened the next day but if not, then we die in our sleep26,” said Nieza, in a pensive mood.

“Seriously, guys! Sunsets are supposed to be romantic, not melancholy. You’re spoiling it for me! I was just about to imagine a beautiful princess, with wind-blown hijab, running towards me,

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chanting my name,” complained Hassan. “But, you’re right about this place. To me, it has the best view of the sunset. I’m glad my parents decided on this place. I didn’t like the first few places that they picked even though it was nearer to the hospital.”

Amy gave him a side look, raised one of her brows and twisted her mouth. “Seriously? Princess? Chanting your name? What have you

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been watching? Aladdin?”

Hassan gave her a lopsided grin.

Nieza got up, “Let’s go in and continue watching the sunset

inside, behind closed sliding door. It’s almost maghrib time. You know that it’s not good to be outside during maghrib27.”

Amy and Hassan quickly followed Nieza inside and sat down

on the sofa to continue watching the sunset.

Whenever they can, the three of them would spend time at

Hassan’s place. His apartment was over-looking the Albert Dock.

There’s always a sense of tranquillity and peace in watching the sun

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sets or rises and the birds scattering home.

Hassan gave a deep sigh, “Now, I can imagine a romantic scene

instead of death.”

“Hassan, for people like us, who are faced with death almost daily, it’s hard to feel romantic. I’m always reminded of death,” said Amy. She was still staring at the majestic sky.

“I lost a patient yesterday,” Amy announced quietly. She looked down at her hands.

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Both Hassan and Nieza turned to look at Amy then at each other.

Hassan said something first, “I’m sorry. What happened?”

The three of them had started their clinical placements and luck has it, all three of them were placed in Liverpool Hospital. Having good friends at the workplace really helped relieve the stress at work.

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Being juniors and on-call, is not exactly a walk in the park for

medical students. Often, they’re over-worked, under-nourished, sleep deprived and under-paid.

It was Amy’s turn to sigh deeply, “It was an emergency case.

I was on-call at the Emergency yesterday. This small boy came in with his parents. Motor accident, head-on collision with a truck. The truck driver suddenly lost control of the truck and swerved into the opposite lane. His parents died on the spot. The boy was brought in with multiple injuries and massive internal bleeding. I tried my best to save him, but he died.”

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Amy wiped away a tear from her eyes. She took a deep breath

trying to rein in her emotions. She felt a lump in her throat.

“He was just a small boy,” said Amy, quietly.

Even though that was not the first death that Amy had faced but still, it was not easy to lose a patient. If only it was possible to save everyone. As much as Amy tried to get used to it, each death still affect her. She had lost count the times that she had shed tears over the passing of a patient.

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Nieza grabbed Amy’s hand and squeezed it. She gave Amy a sad smile.

“I’m sorry. You do understand that it’s not your fault, right?” asked Nieza.

“Yeah, I know but it’s not easy. I don’t think it will ever get easy to deal with death. I was hoping that I’ve developed some numbness of

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emotions by now but I felt hopeless and useless.”

“It never is and probably will never be easy, Amy” lamented

Hassan. “I’ve lost count of the number of death that I’ve faced but I still find it difficult to deal with. The strong feeling of responsibility and sometimes guilt, haunts me. The only consolation for me is that the patient is no longer suffering and in pain. I would feel slightly better until I had to break the news to their family. Now, that’s tough!”

Amy sighed heavily. “I know what you mean. The trepidation

that I feel whenever I have to tell the family that the patient died is as if I was the one who killed the patient or I’m the cause of death.”

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Hassan got up, “You need ice-cream to cheer you up.” He ran to

the kitchen and came back with a tub of ice-cream and three spoons.

It was mango sorbet.

Amy threw her hands in the air in exasperation, “Why did we become doctors?” she asked out loud.

Hassan gave a weak laugh, “It’s because we believe in saving people and doing good. Plus, we’re good at it. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Despite the heartaches, I don’t see myself doing anything else, honestly.”

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“Very true,” Nieza seconded. She dug her spoon in the tub and scooped up a large portion of the sorbet and popped it in her mouth.

She closed her eyes happily, savouring the sweetness and tanginess of sorbet. “Good sorbet,” croaked Nieza.

Amy turned to look at Hassan, “But Hassan, you can be an Islamic scholar since you’re a hafeez. You too, Nieza,” Amy pointed out. “You guys can teach living people instead of dealing with death. I

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don’t have any other skills or ability. If I quit now, my mom will force me to marry someone rich whom I’ll probably end up hating and have truckload of kids.”

Amy shivered involuntarily just thinking about it. She shook

her head, trying to shake off the scary image from her head.

Hassan shook his head, “It’s not as simple as that Amy. Having

memorised the Quran, does not make me a scholar, Amy. In fact, far from it. There are still many things that I don’t know or understand about Islam. I, myself, am still searching for the answers to my own questions. Teaching Islam is a huge responsibility which I don’t think

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I can shoulder or qualified to do. I am undeserving of the title ‘ustaz’.

All I’ve done is, commit the entire Quran to memory but I still don’t understand the meaning of all the verses, yet. I’ve memorised the Quran for me, not for others or to teach,” explained Hassan. “I know I don’t look like a Hafeez and I’m fine with that.”

“I agree with Hassan, completely. Being a Hafidhah does not mean I’m qualified to teach people about Islam. I feel that I need to work on my own weaknesses first before trying to correct others. For now, I feel that it’s better to show the beauty of Islam through conduct rather than me teaching in class. I leave the teaching to scholars who

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are far more knowledgeable and qualified than me. Like everything else, I will be questioned later about what knowledge that I imparted to people so I rather stay within the area that I’m comfortable with,” said Nieza, grinning.

“We don’t have to teach in order to spread knowledge about Islam. We can also share knowledge through other means,” said

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Hassan.

“When did you become a Hafeez?” asked Amy. She’s always in

awe with people who can memorise the entire Quran. She herself, is still struggling to memorise even the short verses.

A small smile touched Hassan’s lips, “When I was fourteen.

Hussin and I studied together,” said Hassan, quietly. Memories of his twin brother still stirred strong feelings within him even though it has been years. Hassan figured that it’s one of the miracles of being twins.

An eternal bond that can never fade or be broken. “Hussin was better than me. When he was in the hospital, he never stopped reciting the Quran. He told me that he didn’t want to forget any of the verses. In

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the end, I believe the Quran verses were his painkillers. He was very calm and at peace when he passed away.”

Nieza discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes. Among the

three of them, Nieza is known to have a heart of mush. She cries at sad movies and is easily moved to tears. Nieza indeed has a soft heart and tender feelings though sometimes she acted tough. Amy and Hassan knew that underneath her sometimes gruff demeanour, there’s a sensitive heart.

Amy looked at her two friends with renewed respect. Compared to her, they are considered to be very knowledgeable in Islam but yet 102 | Time to Heal

their humility is admirable. Not many people whom Amy knows had vast knowledge, are humble. Neither Hassan nor Nieza ever outright preached to her about Islam but rather, they shared their knowledge in the most subtle ways. Amy appreciated that.

“I’ve always wondered what happened to our souls at the time of death. Nieza, can you see Angel of Death?” Amy cocked her head to the side, looking directly at Nieza. Hassan swung his head to face

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Nieza. There was a look of fascination and anticipation on his face.

Nieza’s eyes widened in surprise and gasped, “Heavens, no! I

would faint if I could. I would think, no… let me rephrase that…. the Angel of Death is pretty scary. Plus, only a dying soul can see the Angel of death as that’s the time when the Angel of death comes to collect the soul28.”

Amy shivered involuntarily. Hassan gave a disappointed look

and dug his spoon in the ice-cream tub.

“Is Angel of Death as scary as how the westerners depicted

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it? You know, like the grim reaper? With the black hooded cloak and skeletal look,” asked Amy.

“Well, according to the hadith, that would depend on the soul.

A good soul will see a handsome version of the Angel of Death smiling at him and giving him greetings and glad tidings. A bad soul will see a very scary version of Angel of Death , with foul smell29,” said Hassan.

“That reminds me of the story where Prophet Musa slapped the Angel of Death until its eye was wounded when it came to collect his soul30.” Nieza laughed. “I just couldn’t imagine the angel of death being slapped but I guess it’s different for Prophets. They could see angels in their original form.”

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Amy gasped. “Why did Prophet Musa slap the angel of death?”

“According to the narration of the hadith, Prophet Musa got angry when he was told that his time was up. I guess he wasn’t ready to go,” replied Hassan, grinning.

“Wow!” said Amy. She was trying to imagine the entire scene in her head but couldn’t.

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“Death is a natural progression. Everyone will die31, like it or

not, Amy. We just have to accept it. It’s not good to cling to those who have passed,” said Hassan. “Let’s change the subject. It’s getting depressing and I don’t have any more ice-cream. You guys wanna go to London next week? Do you have time off?”

Nieze put up her right hand, “I have mid-week off. Three days.”

“Yeah, me too,” chirped Amy.

Hassan grinned widely, “Okay, so do I. Let’s go.”

Amy frowned slightly, “Where will we stay? What’s the plan?”

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asked Amy.

“My parents are in town. London, I mean. We can stay at the

apartment. I’m going down to see them and they asked me to drag both of you along, again!” said Hassan.

Nieza’s expression immediately lit up. Amy clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh, yes!” chorused both of them, together.

“Okay, we take the train down, yes?”

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Both girls nodded their head excitedly. They rarely travelled out of Liverpool due to constraints of time and money. Hassan’s parents do visit Liverpool often and it was always a pleasure to see them. Hassan’s mom always made sure that both Amy and Nieza have enough food to eat and their food storage is well-stocked.

Every time Hassan’s parents go on holiday or even work travel, they will always buy souvenirs for the kids; and both Nieza and Amy

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were always included.

“Before you both even ask, yes, we will go to the zoo, the British

Museum and the Natural History Museum again,” said Hassan, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, I don’t see the fascination or continuous attraction, but I will go.”

Amy and Nieza giggled happily.

“Oh, let’s go to Portobello Market and Covent Garden too. I

want to go to the secondhand bookstore,” said Amy.

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Nieza nodded her head eagerly.

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