MY OTHER HALF (Part 4)

To read part 3, click on the following link: https://lubnah.me.ke/my_other_half_part_3/

Assalam aleykuuuum my beloved Ghost!

Ghost, because where are you hiding since the first letter, 10 YEARS BACK?! And 5 years since the last letter. Never mind the silence, because I’m pretty sure you’ve come across this thing called AdULTinG and by now, very familiar with all the oddities that come with it. Anyway, that aside; 5 years, hmm?

Our last conversation was during the pandemic, and now we find ourselves watching the Global Sumud Flotilla head toward Gaza, defying sea blockades to bring hope and aid. As Israeli forces intercept some ships, I pray, may Allah save Gaza and its people, grant steadfastness to those aboard, and may we live to see justice and freedom for them. How the times change, huh?

I too, have changed immensely. Time does a lot to you. You hurt. You cry. You heal. You learn. You unlearn. You make mistakes. You hurt again. An endless cycle of pain and growth. Looking back, I vividly remember when my plan was to get married by 21 years of age (the time of my first letter), latest 23. I’m telling you, I had this beautiful plan all laid out (A moment of silence for broken dreams 😀 ) Everyone close to me knew I LOVED and CRAVED motherhood. I always wanted to be a young mother. It did always feel like I was on this earth solely to become a mother. But God had other plans innit?

By now, I’ve heard it all. I’m too choosy. I am hiding myself. I am JUST scared. I am being difficult about this. I’ve definitely got a problem. I’ve been afflicted with hasad. I need ruqya. And as my beloved aunt once said, “Labda uko na shetwani” 😀 I’m sure ladies above 30 very well know these tales quite too well. I’ve been kept in uncomfortable situations and I have been interrogated for my lack of a husband, more than anything in my life.

Some months back, an old friend called after many years of not talking and obviously, they asked whether I had a husband yet. And when I said no, the response was, “Hujataka (you JUST haven’t wanted it i.e. marriage)”. Because obviously, I am this super woman who can move the earth to her liking 😀 Astaghfirullah. It obviously hurt, because I think it is so easy to judge based on what is apparent, but you truly never have an idea on what someone is really going through. But I pondered on that statement for a long time. “Hujataka.” Do people truly understand qadar? Like truly? Because on one side, each one of us has free will and we do have the liberty to make choices in our lives, but do we truly comprehend Allah’s power in all this?

It reminds me of a close friend who was always strong willed; she always knew what she wanted and she would go for it. Then came a time when her parents forced her to marry an older man that she didn’t want. She FOUGHT against the marriage. Fought and fought and fought. Eventually, she gave in. I remember walking into her home where the family gathering was taking place, and I saw her dancing freely before she saw me and came to hug me. My heart broke for her. We were both still very young, but I think that was the first instance that it struck me how qadar works. This beautiful, amazing girl that I knew would have never accepted this marriage, but she gave in. She accepted her fate. Not because she wanted to, but she had to. If something is meant to happen, it will happen, regardless of your thoughts, feelings, opinions about it. It will happen even if we scream at the top of our lungs or run away or try to hide. It will happen. Simply because this is what is written. It may be a blessing, it may be a test, it may be a blessing disguised as a test. All in all, it will happen whether you like it or not. And that’s just how firm my belief in qadar is.

On the other hand, I see how my friends’ eyes light up, or the excitement in my family’s voices, whenever I say I have good news. There’s that pause, that wide smile, that hopeful glance; like finally, this must be the announcement they’ve all been waiting for. And then when it turns out to be something else, like a new project, a trip, or even something big that I’m genuinely proud of, I can almost sense the drop in their faces. It comes from a good, concerned place, wishing me nothing but wellness and kheyr, but I almost feel bad for them; because in their eyes, all these other joys seem smaller. It’s like, if I just do this ONE THING, JUST THIS ONE THING, then everything will have fallen into place. But is that really the reality?

As someone who’s very emotional and attached, I do see the wisdom in Allah’s plan for me. It may be as everyone keeps saying, maybe I’m proud and too choosy and too scared and perhaps the ruqya is very necessary, I still absolutely believe that there is good in the delay.

Looking back, I am not who I was 5 or 10 years ago. I was struggling to control my BIG emotions. I was struggling to be okay alone, to embrace my own company without feeling incomplete. I was struggling to stand for myself. And to be honest, I think that despite my very good intentions, I wouldn’t have been the ideal wife and mother I’ve always hoped to be. Over time, however, I’ve learned that my seasons of solitude were not a punishment, but a gentle shaping by Allah; teaching me independence, patience, and self-reliance. Alhamdulilah for the timing. I may not be where I once imagined, but I trust I am exactly where I need to be.

With the little experience I’ve had raising my nephews, I’ve watched myself fall short far too many times. At the same time, I’ve seen my growth. Just recently, my two nephews left home with a friend without informing anyone. We looked around the neighbourhood, all their normal play areas, they were nowhere to be seen. It was around lunch hour and I could feel my anxiety kicking in. The wild thoughts. What if they get lost? What if they get kidnapped? What if someone harms them?😀 I know, I know, the mind of an anxious person is as wild as the thoughts 😀 But instead of entertaining those thoughts, I kept myself busy. I then overheard their mum say, “If they’re not back by Asr prayer, I’ll have to go search for them at the outskirts of our neighbourhood.” I thought to myself, “Good idea. I’ll give myself time until Asr, if they’re not back, I can start panicking at that time.” When Asr finally came, we saw them from our window, at the entrance of the masjid, taking wudhu. Phew! Alhamdulilah. Laughing now, I said to their mother, “I have grown.” She nodded, “Yes you have.” For other people, it may seem like a very small deal, but for me? It is major growth. The fact that I wasn’t already crying? That I didn’t shout when they came back? Aaaah, alhamdulilah for growth.

But it’s not just that, you know? I once traveled with my sisters for a few days, something we rarely do. When we came back, my mother had spent the whole day with us, quietly excited, having already cooked our favorite meals. She listened intently as we shared every little detail of our trip, asking gentle questions, smiling at our stories, because she had genuinely missed us. And when I laid my head on my father’s chest, he held me firmly. Whenever I tried to pull away, he held me tighter and longer, as if he wanted to make sure I felt completely safe and at home. And mahn, this is rizq too, one we often overlook. Love from parents? Alhamdulilah.

And then there’s the love of my siblings, the shared laughter, the quiet understanding, the way we just get each other without words. That bond, that companionship, is its own kind of gift. We may not always say it out loud, but in these small moments together, it’s felt deeply.

Sometimes I think maybe Allah just wants us to have more time together. He knows how my mother, who was separated from her children from her first marriage for decades, still needs her babies. He knows how my firm father, who learned softness from his daughters, still needs us. And we, of course, need their love and supportive presence too.

This doesn’t mean that marriage is the end of our relationship with our parents. But God knows, the day I leave their home, I’ll cryyyyyyy buckets. I know it. My parents know it. My siblings and friends know it. They even joke about how on my wedding day, I’ll probably cry as if I’m bereaved or being forced into marriage. We all know it. I’m still chudren 😀

And it’s in these moments of love, parents, siblings, family, that I realize Allah hasn’t deprived me. He’s just written my story differently.

The comments obviously hurt, however well intentioned they are. But my God has been there for me in ways that I can never afford to doubt His plan for me. It might be painful. Especially as someone who’s had a lot of health issues almost all her life, because it does scare me that I might fail myself and my marriage and my kids. But mahn, God has been too merciful to me, I cannot afford to doubt Him. It might be a longer route to my destination but I am sure, this is the best way for me to get where I want to be.

Anyway, husbandry, I hope you’re going through your own polishing stage and in shaa Allah we get to meet as the best versions of ourselves. They say this life has no formula, but my belief is that the only formula is to involve Allah in every step and stage in your life in such a way that you are confident that anything that happens or doesn’t happen, is by Him, and His Great Wisdom. We gotta trust.

May Allah polish our hearts, protect us from harm, and bring us together in the best of ways. May He write gentleness into our stories, keep our parents safe in His mercy, and let our hearts find peace in whatever He decrees. And when the time is right, may He allow us to meet with hearts refined by patience, strengthened by faith, and overflowing with gratitude.

And as we reflect on the patience and steadfastness of the Palestinians, may Allah grant them relief, ease their suffering, and bless them with victory sooner than soon.

For real now, may this be the last letter till we meet in shaa Allah. Till then, be good and you better behave!

Fi amanillah!