We Will Meet Again

I quickened my pace despite the warning to take it easy. We have to be there before they start praying! I panicked as I glanced at my watch. The spot where the needle had poked my arm for the IV still hurt and so did the rest of my body.

My husband was driven off to the mosque by a friend of ours, with dear Julaybib in his palms. I was glad we had decided on a name before I was induced. That name suited him perfectly, I mused as my mind wandered to the story behind the name.

Julaybib was one of the companions of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). However, he was not a normal man for he was somewhat of a dwarf. The name Julaybib itself carries the meaning ‘small grown’, as a reference to his size. He was a social outcast for his lineage was unknown. To the Arabs at the time, that was enough cause for one to be an outcast. Nevertheless, Muhammad (peace be upon him) embraced him as one of them and enhanced it by marrying him to one of the tribes and treating him just like any other companions.

Just like the other companions, Julaybib accompanied Muhammad(peace be upon him) on his expeditions and in one of them a battle ensued, which brought about Julaybib’s death. After the battle was over, the Prophet (peace be upon him) roamed the battle field searching for the martyrs in order to give them proper burials.

He asked “Have you lost anyone?” repeatedly and everyone who was a relative of someone was accounted for but not Julaybib. “But I have lost Julaybib. Search for him in the battlefield.” said the Prophet (peace be upon him) when nobody uttered his name in response to his question.

They scouted the battlefield and found him lying lifeless next to seven polytheists he had struck before meeting his end. “He killed seven and then he was killed? This man is of me and I am of him.” uttered the Prophet (peace be upon him) as he lifted Julaybib in his arms. In utmost honor the Prophet (peace be upon him) himself dug a grave and placed Julaybib in it.

Julaybib was almost a social outcast due to his physical form but with the encouragement and help from the Prophet (peace be upon him), he was able to do courageous deeds and be known as someone very worthwhile.

Tears glistened in my eyes as my mind reached the end of the story. This man is of me and I am of him, lingered in my mind as I let my tears flow down my face.

“OK, I’m ready.” I said as I turned towards my friend in the driver’s seat as we headed for the mosque for the funeral prayer.
“Is Julaybib with Abi?” chimed in Hamzah, my four year old, as we approached the mosque.
“Yes.” came my curt reply. I dabbed at my tears hastily as we drove off.

***********

“We’re here. Are you OK?” asked Hiba, whom I have thought of as my mother. Her eyes portrayed concern as she paused before heading for the entrance to the mosque. I nodded, getting out of the car as slowly as I could for I knew that was the last time I will ever see my son before his body was lowered into his earthly abode.

“I want you to be quiet when we get inside. They’re going to pray for Julaybib. This is what we do when someone dies, we pray for Allah to forgive him. After this, they’re going to the cemetery to bury him. We will see him again in Paradise.” I explained to the kids.

Their faces portrayed foggy comprehension sheltered by innocence. I wondered if they even understood what was happening but I prayed to God to make this part easy at least.

We walked slowly to the entrance and entered as silently as possible. As I entered, a familiar face greeted me, “Assalamualaikum Nadia.” Hind enclosed me in a tight hug that brought flowing tears to my eyes.

“Be patient, there must be wisdom behind this. He’s doing OK. He’s with Allah, There is no better place for him than with Allah. You will meet him again and he will even intercede for you when the time comes for judgment. Allah has made this specially for you. You already have an intercessor waiting for you. I don’t. He’s waiting for you, Nadia. You will see him again, Allah willing.” She squeezed my hand as I wept silently in the foyer of the mosque. Hope flickered in my heart as I swallowed her words of advice. I nodded in total acceptance. She gave me one tight hug and went off to attend the prayer which was about to start.

My husband was given the honor of leading the prayer and his voice pierced the silence permeating the mosque. I glanced at the women standing in prayer and a wave of sadness overcame me again. I will see you again, Julaybib. I told myself over and over again as I dried my tears.

Oh Allah, make him a preceeding reward and a stored treasure for his parents, and an answered intercessor. Oh Allah, through him, make heavy their scales and magnify their reward. Unite him eith the righteous believers, place him under the care of Ibraheem, and protect him by Your mercy from the torment of Hell.
The supplication resounded in my mind.

“You ready to go now?” Hiba appeared before me, offering to send me home while the men headed for the cemetery. I nodded and gave her a faint smile. We walked over to the car and as we passed the men’s entrance, I caught sight of my husband in another car.

“Kids, there’s Abi. Wave to him.” I said as I waved at him, sending him as bright a smile as I could.

He waved back, but I could see his eyes glistening with tears and my heart felt like it was ripped apart. We drove home in silence.
************


“Thanks Hiba.” I uttered as I got out of the car, flashing her an appreciative smile.
“No problem. Nadia, if you need any help with anything, please, just ask. We’re here.” Hiba peered at me as I ushered the kids out of the car.
“Thanks Hiba. I will. Assalamualaikum.” I gestured for the kids to get inside the house as I waved at Hiba.

A wave of emptiness engulfed me as I stepped inside the house. It was dark as the curtains were drawn. The emptiness matched the emptiness I felt inside.

“If people ask you how many siblings you have, you say three, OK? You do have another brother. He’s just with Allah right now.” I found myself telling the kids. Fear of forgetting my lifeless son exhumed me and I felt the need to tell myself and the kids that his memory is not to be forgotten. I looked at their innocent faces and love overwhelmed me as I gathered them in a tight embrace.

“Will we see him in Paradise?” asked Nura, my six year old daughter, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“Yes, we all will, Allah willing. Right now, he’s already with Allah and most probably with Prophet Ibraheem(peace be upon him).” I smiled as her eyes grew bigger.
“With Prophet Ibraheem?” she asked, her brows knitted in confusion.
“Yes. All the babies and children who died before they grow up will be with Prophet Ibraheem(peace be upon him) and they will play in a beautiful garden full of flowers.” I further elaborated, immensely enjoying the look of wonder on Nura’s and Hamzah’s faces.

“When we see Julaybib, will he be a baby or all grown up?” Sakinah, my seven year old enquired, her mind already thinking ahead.

I chuckled silently and hesitated, not really knowing how to answer her.
“Well…I don’t know. Whatever you ask Allah for He will give you.” I finally said after doing some quick thinking.

“Well, I want him all grown up so I can play with him.” Hamzah said, confident that his baby brother will be his playmate in Paradise. He is lonely I thought, as I looked at his beaming face, now totally engrossed in his lego blocks. He is four years old and his anticipation of a baby brother was crushed with Julaybib’s passing.

“No! I want him to be a baby!” Sakinah piped in adamantly, claiming her right to play with a baby brother she had been waiting for all this while.

I chuckled audibly as I looked at my seven year old daughter and four year old son fighting over something which I have no control of.

Sakinah and Hamzah were just about to engage in a verbal argument over whether their baby brother will stay a baby or be all grown up, when I interrupted, “Hey did you know that we nicknamed him Bibib? Just like Sakinah is Nana, Nura is Juju and Hamzah is Zaza.”

That caught their attention as they immediately turned to me, eyes gleaming with new found connection. Smiles dawned on their faces as they ran upstairs to their room chanting, “Bibib, Bibib….Bibeeeb!”

I sighed a heavy sigh as I slowly let my weary body slump on the couch. “Yes…Bibib, we will see you again, all of us, Allah willing.” I said to myself and a faint smile etched across my face, as the glimmer of hope turned into a shining glow in my heart.