Its incredulous how things just happen and you’re thrown from way up to all the way down, smashed into a wall with such force that leaves you reeling, or plunged into an ocean so deep that you sputter for air. And then its equally incredulous when howsoever battered and bashed you are, you inch, you climb, you lick your wounds and you draw that agonizing rattling breath, but you do.

Everything written and said about life seems so cliché that nothing seems to strike a chord anywhere now. But having experienced the single biggest tragedy one could face, my perspective on a whole lot of things has changed. Seeing your mother pass away right in front of your eyes when just a moment ago she was having a Sunday morning like any other, chatting, bundled up in a quilt because of the freakish cold, well yes, to say that my world turned upside down is quite an understatement. Permanently etched into my being are those life-turning, chilling moments: my brother’s yell when she suddenly collapsed, her wide-open eyes, the pulse I wildly tried to feel but couldn't,  my plea, ‘Amma, can you hear me?!’ over and over again, her head nursed in my hands and her eyes locked with mine while we rushed her to the nearest hospital, the desperate prayers uttering from my lips as I promised Allah everything in return for her life, the hope till the last moment that she would be fine, she’d get through this. But the second the flat line on the ECG monitor appeared my anguish multiplied manifolds. I could feel my prayers getting wasted and I fought with Him, why her? WHY? She was good, she was the best, then why take her? Why make us suffer? Each second felt infinite. The world just vanished around me and my family. All I could perceive was the ER, my mother.. my rock lying there needles stuck into her arms, intubated, vigorously being resuscitated; my brother and me who could not in the world understand what was going on; my father trying his best to hold us together,  saying words of hope over and over again. But there was little solace. For the hour had silently crept upon us and she was declared. In a matter of an hour, everything as I knew it, changed.

And then came the phase of utter, numbing disbelief. The one where you actually feel the world collapsing around you; the single wave of overwhelming hopelessness that wipes out your every will to live and where I actually questioned everyone around me, ‘She was my everything. How can I now live?’ The tears halted after hours, but then again a waterfall would gush. I felt I was punched deep, excavated somewhere in my chest, crippled. Every shoulder was one to cry on. I craved for a soothing word from anybody. I wanted her alive and breathing, oh Allah knows how fiercely I wanted that.

But seeing Death so closely changes you. Changes people. Changes behaviors, beliefs, priorities. Somehow, He fed ever so strongly in my heart not to be ungrateful, not repel what had befallen us. There’s a Reason to everything that happens, there’s a Time for everything to happen, and the knowledge of both rests with Him, and only Him. Pain tears and shears you, but you’re the one who lets it cripple you. You can let the pain drive you, but drive towards betterment and not fall into pits of hopelessness. You just need to keep believing. The belief should overpower any darkness.

I’m not talking leaps of Faith here. I’m fully aware that as long as I’d live, I’d ache for her presence. Whenever I’d close my eyes, those last moments would run like a film before my eyes causing them to snap open. I’m familiar with the fact that the disbelief I experienced on seeing her lifeless would never grow old- it’d be equally tormenting as it was on day one. I know that I’d have to learn not listening to her reassuring voice whenever I’d feel down. Everytime I see a mother-child bonding, I’m filled with the feverish wish to have her around. But I suddenly had to grow up.  Because howsoever cruel the timing seemed, fact is, it was pre-destined. There was no dodging it. And to sink in despair would just be an insult to her memory. My mother was a fighter, upholding virtue, dignity and truth at every cost. Following her footsteps was the least that we could do.

And I wasn't totally deprived of love. True, a mother’s love is unparalleled. But I saw uncountable number of hands that rose in prayer for my success. I received care and affection from my family through means I could never have imagined. It was this love for my mother and thus for her family that urged everybody to instinctively nurture us and get us up on our feet in no time and then keep us standing.

Its incredulous indeed that your world can go topsy-turvy in a matter of seconds. But the bottom-line is, you've got to believe that the One doing that, is Capable of fashioning this world best suited to you too. You just need to not give up.