🥹Without a mother, you can't even find things in the house, and you're searching for peace🥹
After a long time, when I met an old friend, I had no idea that I was about to meet not a living, breathing person, but a walking corpse. The glow on his face, the spark of life, had all disappeared into a deep cloud. When I asked, "What's wrong, buddy? You've become very quiet. Is everything alright?" he sighed a long sigh, a sigh that felt like his heart was coming to his mouth. He said, "It's been a year. My universe has been destroyed. My mother has left me alone and departed for the eternal abode."
This was not just a sentence; it was an explosion that shook the walls of my heart. After that, what he said was not words but tears of blood flowing in the form of words. I have tried to weave his immortal sorrow into these lines.
*O traveler wandering in search of peace, stop for a moment*
How simple we are, searching for peace in positions, seeking peace in comforts and gatherings, while peace was sitting on that worn-out prayer mat where an old mother, raising her trembling hands, would pray for you by name. The truth is that without a mother, you can't even find things in the house, and we, in our ignorance, are searching for peace in this heartless world.
Mother was not just a relationship; she was the *center of gravity* of the house. As long as she was alive, everything in the house was in its place. We couldn't even find our socks, our watch, our books without calling out to our mother, "Mom, where is that thing of mine?" And Mother, smiling, would place it in front of us in an instant. Today, that same mother is gone, and the whole house is scattered. Now there are cupboards, but there is no order; there are rooms, but there is no fragrance; there is a dining table, but there is no blessing.
The friend said, crying, "Now when I go home, my heart breaks when I ring the doorbell. Before, I knew that someone was waiting inside for my footsteps, someone who would recognize that my son had arrived from the sound of my shoes. Now, I have to unlock the door and enter the silent house myself, where only loneliness greets me."
How painful is that silence, where the sound of the beads of the mother's rosary is not heard, where her slight cough is not heard, where no one asks, "Son, have you eaten?" Today, I realize how rich we were when Mother was alive. We were kings because we had a shield of prayer behind us. Now, we are standing on bare ground, there is scorching sun, and there is no shelter over our heads. A house where there is no shade of the mother's prayer is not a house but becomes as desolate as a graveyard.
People, if your mother is alive, for God's sake, hold her feet, because when this door is closed, then no news comes even from the sky. Then you will keep wandering for life, but you will not find peace, because peace has gone to sleep under mounds of earth with that being.
O Allah! Grant my friend's mother a place in Paradise, and grant him patience in this deadly sorrow of her separation, and grant him a great reward. Grant my parents a long life, and keep their shadow over me and all my siblings forever. Amen, O Lord of the Worlds, for the sake of the trustworthy and noble Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him.
✍️*Mutallim Al-Jamiatul Ashrafia*✍️