Mom's two-year tooth-and-nail battle with cancer has ended. No matter how tightly I shut my eyes and remember her loving hugs, bright smile, or warm lap, they will not manifest. But if I can learn from this loss, perhaps I can turn grief into something positive, and thereby honour mom's memory.
Cancer and death have disrupted the calm of my life, creating ripples of change. Change for good.
Death has taught me to live
My picture of life has often felt foggy. What is my purpose? It's a tough question.
Contrast can create meaning. Take light for example; without darkness, it is meaningless. In the same vein, I think to myself: how can I really live without understanding death?
When mom's soul left her body and we began the preparations for her burial, I thought about death for the first time. Yes, I have heard lectures about the afterlife since I was a child. But, in all honesty, I had never contemplated it. Death was always taboo.
Exploring death has been liberating. It has helped me break the choking fetters of materialism in favour of something divine. It has helped me appreciate my responsibility to myself, family, and community. My picture of life has gained focus. The colours are vibrant, hues are crisp, and lines are clear.
Death is not morbid. In fact, I have never felt so alive.
Motherhood, martyrdom, and my motivation
In 52 years, my mom never received an award for her career. Because, as a stay-at-home mom, she sacrificed her career for us. She never wore high fashion clothes. Because, as part of a working-class family, she saved all of her money for us. She never complained about her circumstances in life. Because, as a compassionate mom, she never wanted to stress us.
My mom didn't fight in a war, but I believe she was a martyr. At 26, I finally realize that she gave the world for me. Now, I want to be her award. I want to perfect my character, improve my world, and pleasure Allah to honor her.
Vincent van Gogh, Edgar Allen Poe, and Johann Bach are part of a long list of artists who were finally celebrated after their death. Their work was ahead of their time. Perhaps, the same is true for the stay-at-home mom.
Cancer as a sheep in wolf's clothing
When I realized the extent of mom's cancer, anxiety built in my chest. I saved my tears for Allah, a sort of ghusl that watered the parched soil of my heart. It softened my being and allowed faith to take root, giving life to a new understanding of patience.
In math, an inflection point is the point when a line changes direction. Allah promises that each of us will be tested with loss of health, wealth, and life, but glad tidings are reserved for those who patiently persevere through such challenges (Quran: 2:155). Perhaps these events can serve as an inflection point, catalysing positive change in our lives. While we have no control over what happens to us, we do have control over our response.
It is difficult to say out loud, but much good has come from cancer. My picture of life has become clearer, providing me with a better sense of purpose. I am motivated to excel in good work. Our family has come together in a way that has never happened before. I have invested into my relationship with Allah , making him a close friend and confidant.
With so many things to be thankful for, it is difficult to harbour anger towards this disease and its unfortunate result.