Friday, February 8, 2013

Funerals and Fireworks

Asalamu Alaykom,

Ahmed and Yosra

Everything is 'Inshahallah'

I knew that the two weeks would be intense.  I had braced myself since I first heard about my ex-husband's trip back to Egypt.  Once you have a child together, you can divorce yourself from the man but you can't eliminate him from your life.

So, I had to stand my ground that my son wouldn't be going up to Port Said on the anniversary weekend of the Egyptian Revolution.  It was going to be compounded by the verdict being read of last year's Stadium Massacre .  As I wrote before, I didn't cave in to AbuBoo's pressure and name calling.  Alhumdulillah, as the seaside city experienced its worst violence since Israel was attacking it in 1967.

Little girl waves goodbye to casket carrying her father killed by police in Port Said.

All traffic in and out of the city was put to a halt.  If Mr. Boo had been allowed to accompany his father, he would have been trapped.

By the following Wednesday, AbuBoo was back down to Giza.  I hadn't known when he was coming so it was a bit of a surprise.  He really wanted to see his son the next day.  AbuBoo didn't want to wait until our planned time on Friday.  He called right at bedtime and I was tired so I responded with,  "All I can think about it going to sleep.  Let me get back to you tomorrow."

In the morning, I talked it over with my husband, Ahmed, and then with Mr. Boo.  Together, we made a plan.  We could all go to Hardee's on Al-Haram Street and meet AbuBoo there.  My boy was excited about the possibility.  I had to remind him, "Everything is 'inshahallah.'"

Sure enough, after school I didn't get a reply to the text message I sent.  When I called, AbuBoo was busy.  He had something else to do.  He couldn't make it.

I then had to tell my seven-year-old that the plan had fallen through.  His daddy had something important to do.  That's a hard message to tell a child.  Every child should believe that THEY are the most important thing in their parents' lives.  When I prayed magrib that Thursday night, I really felt the hurt.

Truly, I felt the hurt emanating from many places.  I felt the pain from being the child of divorce; of not knowing if I was going to be on my father's list of priorities.  I could also identify better with my own mother who had once delivered such messages to me.  Yet, I could also feel how hard it is to be the parent visiting from overseas who actually does have too many things to do in too short a time.  Divorce is a horribly painful fracturing of souls.


At the same time, my husband was in a very sad time of mourning.  His young cousin, from down the street, had been found dead in his home.  He had committed suicide at the age of 26.

I've had two cousins commit suicide so I can understand some of the feelings he was going through.  There's the grief for a young life which has ended abruptly.  There's also the understanding that, "but for the Grace of God go I."  All of us are capable of horrible evil when we let drugs and alcohol claim our bodies, minds and eventually our souls.  Astragferallah.

At first, I wasn't sure what the Islamic stance was on suicide.  I mean, I knew it was haram but what about body?  What about the burial?  What about those who aid the burial?  I researched the topic because I feared that my husband could be doing something wrong the next day.

After searching on the 'net that night, I felt even prouder of Islam.  Yes, suicide is a major sin but it doesn't stop that person from being considered a Muslim.  They may have died by their own hand but they died a Muslim.  They have the right to a consecrated burial.  Suicide is even in mentioned in the sunnah of the Prophet (peace be upon him).  The Prophet did not attend the janazah of a man who killed himself but did not prevent others from attending.

So, there we sat in our sadness that Thursday night.  Being married isn't all about making love by moonlight.  A lot of building a life together is handling times of loss and uncertainty.

The next day, my big, strong husband went to the Cairo morgue and collected the body of his cousin.  Ahmed knows about death yet to be amidst so many dead bodies was upsetting.  It smelled.  It felt dirty.

He rode in an ambulance next to the wrapped body.  He rode for an hour wishing that life had gone differently.  He was responsible for bringing back the only thing left of a person.  His cousin had never married; he had no children.

Mr. Boo couldn't go to the masjid that Jummah.  We don't let him attend if there's a janazah; a funeral.  Ahmed has to accompany the men to the cemetery.  If the deceased is a family member, then it's my husband who readies the burial site.  Each grave is communal with layers of the dead.  Once the grave is open, my man moves to the side any remnants that have not turned to dust.  That effort is a small physical act but it's huge psychologically.

When Ahmed came home, he wouldn't let me touch him.  He put all his clothes in the washer and took a shower.  He felt so covered in the dust of death.

Only then, could I go to him and hear how it had gone.  I listened.  I don't listen to him enough.  Astragferallah.  I talk too much but I did listen that day.  I was quiet.  I heard him.  He knows he was heard. Alhumdulillah.

That night, when we went down to dinner, he wasn't sitting at the main table with the others.  He was going to eat over in another room with Mr. Boo and me.  I wasn't happy.  I wanted his family surrounding him!  They didn't understand how hard the day had been on him but I did.  I felt very protective and let my feelings be known after dinner to his sisters.  It's all good and fine to honor guests to the house, but they couldn't forget their brother who had done so much for everyone and needed support.

A whole other experience.

It's amazing how much one day can differ from the next.  That's why I wish those contemplating an early death just kept going until tomorrow.  When the sun came out that Saturday, it really shone for the first time in two days.  I started to see things more clearly.

If Mr. Boo's father had kept his appointment with us that Thursday, it would have been nearly impossible for us to go.  Ahmed couldn't have gone.  I needed to say, "Alhumdulillah," for that not working out.

If the school's celebration had not gotten rained out on Friday, then it would have been nearly impossible for us to go to that either.  I needed to say another, "Alhumdulillah," for that as well.

When it was still on the calendar for Friday, I had arranged for AbuBoo to meet us at the party.  I had felt, at the time, that this was a blessing from God.  How wonderful to have a very clean, safe, secure location where I could keep an eye on them without being obtrusive.

Then, it rained.  When it rained, the party was postponed.  I had been very sad at the time.  How would this work now?  I needn't have worried.  The death in the family with the Friday funeral made Saturday a better day.

"I was thinking of going back to Port Said on Saturday," was the last thing I wanted to hear from AbuBoo.

"It's your choice," I answered back without rancour.

He stayed.  He agreed to go as did Ahmed.  Yes, I would be attending my school's biggest social event of the year with my husband, my kid and my ex.  You really have to admit that not too many women would sign up for that one.

"How post-modern of you!" was the way my young co-worker put it.

It was also very brave of my husband.  The two men had not met since the name-calling on the phone.  Would there be any problems?  I really prayed for a good day for everyone; most of all for my son who deserved some happiness.

Some Happiness

Once in the gate, I saw my former husband.  I try not to think of him as such.  That label is so far in the past by now.  It's been five years since we split.

My boy got a big enveloping hug.  I took a picture of it because that's what I do best when I'm feeling awkward.  My husband took a step back.  I handled logistics quickly with AbuBoo and watched my son walk away.

That left my husband and I to enjoy a day---except he was still in mourning.  It was a tricky deal to ease him out of his sadness without pushing him to his limit.  I knew it was a lot to deal with and it wasn't just the cousin's death.  Afterall, Ahmed had to cope with seeing his boy in the arms of the man who can claim paternity.

Thankfully, Glass Onion, Cairo's Beatles cover band supplied some upbeat tunes.  We sat down on one of the many white leather couches set up for the event.  I sang a few bars in my husband's ear.  I was happy.  I was infectiously happy.

I took a picture of us together.  It appears at the top of this post.  It is the first time you are seeing my husband on this blog.  I'm proud of that picture.  We look good mashahallah.  The light shining upon us was something that pleasantly surprised me.  I didn't realize it until I downloaded the pics later.

"Little Darling, it's been a long, hard lonely winter.  Little Darling, it's been a year since it's been clear.  Here comes the sun.  Here comes the sun.  And I say, 'It's all right.'"

And it was all right!  That's what that picture is to me.  It all worked out.  Before too long the boys (big and little) were walking up to us.  Ahmed was going to head over to the local masjid for duhr and I volunteered that AbuBoo could go too.  I must have been out of my mind with "Come Together" vibes but no one disagreed.  Those two men walked away to go pray together.

Can I tell you how amazing that was for me?

For real, there is something special about being a person of faith.  You worship The One True God and if someone else wants to stand next to you, then they are welcome.  Those Muslim men are living proof of that.

As soon as they were gone, the band made a departure of their own.  They stopped playing Beatles and covered Coldplay.  If you read this blog regularly, you'll know which song would send me into chortles and sure enough there it was.


Yes, I felt so good.  It was the sunny day and the release of fears and sadness.  It was years of not knowing how two men could help co-parent my boy.  It was seeing them get along and be men of faith.  It was being at my new school with all of its excellent planning and fabulous results.  It was having many students happy to see me and introduce me to their parents.  It was watching Mr. Boo dance around so happy with his day and his life.

In the moment when I had to admit I was immensely happy, a little girl walked by.  She had English on her shirt.  "Just follow your dreams."  That was too much!

Eventually, I would wonder what was taking the men so long.  I worried a bit that my darkest fears of them beating up each other might be have been realized on that road outside.  Yet, I enjoyed the music, video tapped Mr. Boo and kept an eye on the gate.  When they strolled in talking, I relaxed.

Yes, there were problems.  I won't say that it was all smooth sailing from there on out.  There was, however, co-existence.  That's what we all needed and worked to achieve.  Alhumdulillah we did.

When night fell, the desert winds kicked up.  I made Mr. Boo put on his new Old Navy fleece jacket (thanks to his father) and we sat down for the fireworks.  It was a strange moment.  Strange isn't always a bad thing. The four of us shared a table and watched the display.

In huge letters, we saw 10 YEARS lit up in the night sky.  I smiled to myself.  It has been 10 years I've been in Islam.  10 years of wearing hijab.  10 years since I first came to Egypt.  It was my milestone too and I shared it with the three people who have meant the most to me in my hijrah journey.

Time to Go

When it was time to go, AbuBoo didn't want the night to end.  It's so typical of that man.  He is all about the fun and never mind the consequences.  We had our one disagreement about another trip to the trampoline.

"It's time to go!" I said in exasperation.

"It's just one more time," he reasoned.

"He's got school tomorrow."

"It's early yet."

"No, it's not.  We've still got to get a taxi and get home."

Oh, ya.  We all had to make it back to the same general area.  My husband had told me earlier that we were not riding to the event together.  He hadn't said anything about riding back.  So, I asked my husband to please allow this (to use my co-worker's phraseology) post-modern car-pooling.

Just to make the whole adventure that much more interesting, I had a co-worker needing a ride join us.  I had let her in on who everyone was.

"Sure.  It will be my husband, my son and my son's father."

"Oh."  She didn't understand quite immediately.

Then it sunk in, "OH!"  You should have seen her eyebrows raise up.

Getting a taxi was tough that night.  Both men were trying to outdo each other on who knew the way to do it.  AbuBoo refused to go the other side of the road.  Ahmed insisted it was the only way.  We ran across.

AbuBoo pulled out his phone and called his wife's cousin to pick us up.  I was not going to agree to that ride.   Thankfully, another car pulled up.

"Come on, you can ride up in front with me," called out my ex to our son.

"No, he can't," I countered.  He's sitting in back with me."

"I'll keep him safe," he insisted.

"He's safer back here," I answered firmly.

We rode back to Giza.  Subhanallah.  What a day!  At the start of our area, my husband told the driver to pull over and we got out.  I hadn't known we weren't going all the way home.  It was confusing.  My husband can forget how much I need information.  I'll agree to things but I have to get a heads up.

So, boy and father said goodbye on the side of the road.  I wasn't sure if that was the last time this visit.

It wasn't.  Last night, we made our trip to Hardee's.  It went well.  We've now got two times of togetherness under our belts.  Again, it wasn't pefect perfect but it was good.

Mostly Good

Subhanallah, life is mostly good.  I'm telling you this from this place because I haven't always been here.  I've been so sad that I wondered how I could keep going but I did.  I trusted that somehow the big picture would make sense.

And you know what?  I think it does!  I think my life in its totality makes sense.  I feel another full circle moment in my life giving me closure.  I feel the embrace of The Almighty.  God is the Greatest!  Truly, it's hard to feel that every moment of your life but when you don't feel it TRUST IT.  Trust that God knows your story; knew your story before you were even born.  You don't have to fear the strangeness.  Embrace your dream and let it be your story with all its twists and turns.

Now, it's just the three of us again in Egypt.  We survived Daddy from America's visit.  It wasn't easy but then we aren't promised an easy life.  We're promised that there will be hardship and there will be ease.

Thank God.


UmmTimo said...

MashAllah! I'm so happy Alhamdollillah that things are working out for you and your family. I think it is wonderful that all the adults can make such an effort to come together peacefully and in a positive way for Mr. Boo. It is a wonderful example. May Allah SWT increase your Iman and bless you with health, wealth, and happiness!

P.S. Once again MAJOR props to Ahmed...He's a keeper MashAllah. :)

Thankful Slave said...

No matter what, always keep Mr.Boo see the good side/good image of his father. Things might be easy said than done, but our religion insist on due respect to both parents. Have you seen that movie "Kramer Vs Kramer"? It touches a bit on the strong bond that will always be between a son and his father, no matter what.

May Allah Keep all your matters easy and smooth,


Anonymous said...

So glad that your son had a nice visit with his father.

My condolences, for your family's loss. For your husband, I am sure taking care of his cousin in his last hours above ground, was heartrending, but taking care of a loved family member can also bring a sense of solace and a feeling of love and duty fulfilled. I am sure his own family is grateful to your husband for taking charge at a difficult time.

The picture of Ahmed and you is lovely.

It was very "post modern" of all 3 adults to work together to make a situation work. I hope that it will always remain so. However a word of caution, I would not take this cooperation for granted over the long term. Sometimes and somewhere and inevitably, irrationality rears it ugly, emotional and dramatic head. Sometimes distance is best (which you have in heaps).

Deanna Troi

Yosra said...

Asalamu Alaykom UmmTimo,

Nice to hear from you :)

Ameen to your du'a. Ya, alhumdulillah it went as well as it did.

I agree that my hub went above and beyond and I'm planning on keeping him inshahallah.

Asalamu alaykom TS,

As a man, I can understand your increased need to have Mr. Boo revere his father. However, I want my son to keep his own truth intact. I know a lot of moms who lie to their children in order to make the absent father look great. I'm going to be honest and sometimes that doesn't make his dad look good. I will protect my son from what would needlessly hurt him however I will allow Mr. Boo to sense the reality.

I've never seen all of Kramer vs. Kramer. It was too much of a downer for me.

I have seen the effect of divorce on hundreds of children---including my own. It's awful. I hope that I will reduce some of the hurt with this last child of mine. No guarantees! Inshahallah...

Ameen to your du'a.

Thanks for caring :)

Asalamu Alaykom Deanna,

I appreciate your kind words. My husband wasn't close to his cousin in later years---even though they lived on the same street. Mortality maybe seemed closer to my husband that weekend. He's OK now alhumdulillah.

Glad you liked the photo :) I got Ahmed's permission first. He looks good in it so of course he said, "yes". Normally, he isn't that photogenic.

I agree that our post-modern family might bust at the seams in the future. It's OK. We just needed that weekend to go well. Alhumdulillah it did. My husband has a better understanding of who I was married to before and he therefore has a better understanding of me. My son has a more unified image of himself. Me? I have some peace. Alhumdulillah.

Light and Love!