The Burial

Mid July and it was a warm and sunny day in sunny England. I rushed to the masjid and I entered ghusl room to wash my father.

The room was dark and dingy. To the right there was a small kitchen unit with buckets and jugs, the floor was made from beige tiles and the walls were aged. There was a steel station to load the body on which was slapped in the centre of this small room. Something about this room felt awfully cold.

It had been a long time since me and all my brothers were together. It took a death for us to be here.

I removed my thawb and I put some latex gloves. I aligned the steel station to load the body on, we all proceeded to lift the body on my count. When I lifted my father, the remains of blood from the post-mortem ran across my arms. It ran across my arms because I was lifting the core of the body, my brothers were in some other place on the edges. Blank faces across all of them, they were afraid and unsure what to do. I too felt afraid. Although I was the youngest of all my siblings, I had to step up and stay there.

I walked over to the sink and I washed the blood off my skin. I looked at my brothers and I told them "It is our opportunity to cleanse our father. Our last moment in privacy. This is our time now to spend with dad, lets make the most of it."

I lead the ghusl. I can't quite explain this now but there is something strangely peaceful and intimate about preparing your loved father for his journey.
 
After the janazah, we arrived to the graveyard. We lowered the coffin down. As the most physically abled, I went down alone. Although there were over a hundred people talking and some giving instruction, I zoned out and felt nothing but silence. Time slowed down. "His journey is about to begin" I thought.

I was brought back to reality when the large concrete slabs were being passed to me. I covered all the gaps and I climbed out in my bare white socks or what remained of them.   

The burial began. I ensured every attendee participated. Ajar and a reminder all round. 

In times of death and discomfort families come together to seek comfort, console and help one another. In theory that's what should happen. Ours happened to cause us grief, lie, spread fitna and make it the worst possible experience for us. I've never come across so many wretched vultures in one day. May Allah save us all from such people.

Our people are bent on following their forefathers which happens to have bidah, kufr and shirk. Have we not learnt any lessons from the qur'an?

Pakistani folks are ya'aani.. crazy.

Alhamdulillah, I'm one of them.