It was all chaotic around me. I was standing there, trying to understand what was going on. Dust and darkness outside; numbness inside me. I was looking for something in that darkness. A very special someone. Everyone was there - at home- safe and sound. But someone special was missing. Then they came in with the news. My son had been found. Dead. My son, my loving son.
I tried to imagine what he would look like - wrapped in a white cloth. Only the face would have been left uncovered. He was lying there with closed eyes and a calm face. With olive skin, thin face and a sharp nose - it was my son. It wasn't Ammar. But it was my son.
I wasn't crying. I wasn't wailing. I was just asking where his body was. I just wanted to see his body. 'He has been buried already' - came the reply.
I wasn't crying. I wasn't wailing. I was just asking where his body was. I just wanted to see his body. 'He has been buried already' - came the reply.
That was the last straw. That's when my heart was torn to bits. I screamed again and again - I wanted to see my son. For one last time. 'Please'. I was pleading again and again.
That us when I woke up. It was a nightmare I had awaken from. I was empty. I realize now -I have the privilege to wake up to reality. So many mothers don't. They will wake up to the nightmare everyday for the rest of their lives.
I have been scarred for life. I am now prejudiced for good.
Oh Lord, the One who has given all mothers the highest of status, please make these mothers meet their sons in the best of places, in the highest of heavens in the Hereafter. In a life which will last forever and ever. Ameen!
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