"Every soul shall taste death" (Holy Quran)
Death is inevitable. It is the other side of the coin for life. We know it, and acknowledge it.
Yet, when it hits we are never prepared.
Yesterday, my wife received news that her father had died - twice. One from a relative who was misinformed, at 7pm NZ time, when my father in law was actually still barely alive. One from my own father at 3am NZ time this morning, when it was confirmed that he had passed on.
And both times I saw her cry, like her heart had shattered into a million pieces. The anguish in her agonised sobs could not be hidden. All the pain and the frustration, the feeling of helplessness at not being able to do anything while being in another country thousands of miles away from home, tore from her very being.
And I was powerless to do anything.
I could only be there comfort her and wait for the storm to pass.
In my mind however, I was very thankful that we managed to do at least one thing. A few hours before, my father had been at my father in law's side, and managed to call us here in NZ. That was at 2am. My father had put the telephone at my father in law's ear. And Salmah told him that she loved him. We both asked for his forgiveness for any wrongdoings we had done. By this time Salmah was sobbing uncontrollably, and communication was cut. We weren't sure if her father had heard us.
A minute later I get this text from my father:
"I could see his forehead moved. A tear glistened. U both have done well."
This was an hour before he passed.
The time is 3.45am.
Death had come and gone, and had hit like a hammer to the head.
My father in law is gone.
My wife wipes the last of her tears, and looks at the clock.
And gets ready for work.