She's my Sister

A true story translated by Muhammad Alshareef


Her cheeks were worn and sunken and her skin hugged her bones. That didn't stop her though, you could never catch her not reciting Qur'an. Always vigil in her personal prayer room Dad had set up for her. Bowing, prostrating, raising her hands in prayer. That was the way she was from dawn to sunset and back again, boredom was for others.

As for me I craved nothing more than fashion magazines and novels. treated myself all the time to videos until those trips to the rental place became my trademark. As they say, when something becomes habit people tend to distinguish you by it. I was negligent in my responsibilities and laziness characterized my Salah.



One night, I turned the video off after a marathon three hours of watching. The adhan softly rose in that quiet night. I slipped peacefully into my blanket.



Her voice carried from her prayer room. "Yes? Would you like anything Noorah?"

With a sharp needle she popped my plans. `Don't sleep before you pray Fajr!'

"Agh ... there's still an hour before Fajr, that was only the first Adhaan!"

With those loving pinches of hers, she called me closer. She was always like that, even before the fierce sickness shook her spirit and shut her in bed. `Hanan can you come sit beside me.'

I could never refuse any of her requests, you could touch the purity and sincerity.

"Yes, Noorah?"

`Please sit here.'

"OK, I'm sitting. What's on your mind?"

With the sweetest mono voice she began reciting:

[Every soul shall taste death and you will merely be repaid your earnings on Resurrection Day]

She stopped thoughtfully. Then she asked, `Do you believe in death?'

"Of course I do."

`Do you believe that you shall be responsible for whatever you do, regardless of how small or large?'

"I do, but Allah is Forgiving and Merciful and I've got a long life waiting for me."

`Stop it Hanan ... aren't you afraid of death and it's abruptness? Look at Hind. She was younger than you but she died in a car accident. So did so and so, and so and so. Death is age-blind and your age could never be a measure of when you shall die.'

The darkness of the room filled my skin with fear. "I'm scared of the dark and now you made me scared of death, how am I supposed to go to sleep now. Noorah, I thought you promised you'd go with us on vacation
during the summer break."

Impact. Her voice broke and her heart quivered. `I might be going on a long trip this year Hanan, but somewhere else. Just maybe. All of our lives are in Allah's hands and we all belong to Him.'

My eyes welled and the tears slipped down both cheeks.

I pondered my sisters grizzly sickness, how the doctors had informed my father privately that there was not much hope that Noorah was going to outlive the disease. She wasn't told though. Who hinted to her? Or was
it that she could sense the truth.

`What are you thinking about Hanan?' Her voice was sharp.
`Do you think I am just saying this because I am sick? Uh - uh. In fact, I may live longer than people who are not sick. And you Hanan, how long are you going to live? Twenty years, maybe? Forty? Then what?' Through the dark she reached for my hand and squeezed gently. `There's no difference between us; we're all going to leave this world to live in Paradise or agonize in Hell. Listen to the words of Allah:

[Anyone who is pushed away from the Fire and shown into Jannah will have triumphed.]

I left my sister's room dazed, her words ringing in my ears:
May Allah guide you Hanan - don't forget your prayer.

Eight O'clock in the morning. Pounding on my door. I don't usually wake up at this time. Crying. Confusion. O Allah, what happened?

Noorahs condition became critical after Fajr, they took her immediately to the hospital ... Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji`un.

There wasn't going to be any trips this summer. It was written that I would spend the summer at home.

After an eternity...

It was one O'clock in the afternoon. Mother phoned the hospital. `Yes. You can come and see her now.' Dad's voice had changed, mother could sense something had gone deathly wrong. We left immediately.

Where was that avenue I used to travel and thought was so short? Why was it so long now, so very long. Where was the cherished crowd and traffic that would give me a chance to gaze left and right. Everyone, just move out of our way. Mother was shaking her head in her hands - crying - as she made dua' for her Noorah.

We arrived at the hospitals main entrance.

One man was moaning, another was involved in an accident and a third's eyes were iced, you couldn't tell if he was alive or dead.

We skipped stairs to Noorahs floor. She was in intensive care.

The nurse approached us. `Let me take you to her.' As we walked down the aisles the nurse went on expressing how sweet a girl Noorah was. She reassured Mother somewhat that Noorah's condition had gotten better than what it was in the morning.

`Sorry. No more than one visitor at a time.' This was the intensive care unit. Through the small window in the door and past the flurry of white robes I caught my sisters eyes. Mother was standing beside her. After two minutes, mother came out unable to control her crying.

`You may enter and say Salam to her on condition that you do not speak too long,' they told me. `Two minutes should be enough.'

"How are you Noorah? You were fine last night sister, what happened?"

We held hands, she squeezed harmlessly. `Even now, Alhamdulillah, I'm doing fine.'

"Alhamdulillah ... but ... your hands are so cold."

I sat on her bedside and rested my fingers on her knee. She jerked it away. "Sorry ... did I hurt you?"

"No, it is just that I remembered Allah's words

[One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud)]

... Hanan pray for me. I may be meeting the first day of the hearafter very soon. It is a long journey and I haven't prepared enough good deeds in my suitcase.'

A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek at her words. I cr
ied and she joined me. The room blurred away and left us - two sisters -to cry together. Rivulets of tears splashed down on my sister's palm which I
held with both hands. Dad was now becoming more worried about me.
I've never cried like that before.

At home and upstairs in my room, I watched the sun pass away with a sorrowful day. Silence mingled in our corridors. A cousin came in my room, another. The visitors were many and all the voices from downstairs
stirred together. Only one thing was clear at that point ... Noorah had died!

I stopped distinguishing who came and who went. I couldn't remember what they said. O Allah, where was I? What was going on? I couldn't even cry anymore.

Later that week they told me what had happened. Dad had taken my hand to say goodbye to my sister for the last time, I had kissed Noorah's head.

I remember only one thing though, seeing her spread on that bed, the bed that she was going to die on. I remembered the verse she recited:

[One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud)]
and I knew too well the truth of the next verse: [The drive on that day we be to your Lord (Allah)!]

I tiptoed into her prayer room that night. Staring at the quiet dressers and silenced mirrors, I treasured who it was that had shared my mother's stomach with me. Noorah was my twin sister.

I remembered who I had swapped sorrows with. Who had comforted my rainy days. I remembered who had prayed for my guidance and who had spent so many tears for so many long nights telling me about death and accountability. May Allah save us all.

Tonight is Noorah's first night that she shall spend in her tomb.
O Allah, have mercy on her and illumine her grave. This was her Qur'an, her prayer mat and and this was the spring rose-colored dress that she told me she would hide until she got married, the dress she wanted to
keep just for her husband.

I remembered my sister and cried over all the days that I had lost. I prayed to Allah to have mercy on me, accept me and forgive me. I prayed to Allah to keep her firm in her grave as she always liked to mention in
her supplications.

At that moment, I stopped. I asked myself: what if it was I who had died?
Where would I be moving on to? Fear pressed me and the tears began all over again.

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar...

The first adhan rose softly from the Masjid, how beautiful it sounded this time. I felt calm and relaxed as I repeated the Muadhdhins call. I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders and stood to pray Fajr. I prayed as
if it was my last prayer, a farewell prayer, just like Noorah had done yesterday. It had been her last Fajr.

Now and in sha' Allah for the rest of my life, if I awake in the mornings I do not count on being alive by evening, and in the evening I do not count on being alive by morning. We are all going on Noorah's journey - what have we prepared for it?

"Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The parable of His Light is as a niche and within a lamp:the lamp is in a glass, the glass as it were a brilliant star,lite from a blessed tree,an olive,neither from the east nor the west , whose oil would almost glow forth, though no fire touched it. Light upon Light! Allah guides to His Light whom He wills. And Allah sets forth parables for mankind, and Allah is All-Knower of everything."{Quran 24:35}<>

Assalam u Alaikum.

First of all thanx Danyal for sharing this truely inspiring story. and I m totaly moved after reading it. it made me feel sorry for us all muslims and the fellow members that no1 even replied to this 1.

to be honest i m one of the luckiest muslims in this world that have been in aitkaaf in both the masjid-e-haram (Masjid-e-Nabvi & Bait-ul-Haram) with no record of Umrah i have performed. but i know that the problem is with us, with me to be precise . Allah (SWT) has given us everything life, the whole body, health, money and everything a man can imagine but still we dun obey him. we hear the Azaan five times a day but we are busy in our daily chores sooo much that we Ignore it. It means we are ignoring Allah (SWT) (nauz-u-billah). at least we can pray five times a day but we dun even do that.

every1 knows that he has too die one day but we still forget our death. we prepare for the 3 hour exam day and night but we dun care for the exam that is going to make our "Aakhira" we make plans for our this temporary life but do nothing for the life that is etarnal. we know everything but still we ignore everything what Allah (SWT) has told us to do in this life. this life is an examination hall and we make plans to live in it for ever. no1 lives in the examination hall for ever. when the time limit is over we have to handover our sheets to the examiner and walk out of the hall, and wait for the result, but still, still we dun write anything that is going to make us pass in the exam of life.

I was really on the verge of crying when i got to the death part of noorah. Allah (SWT) has given us muslims the hidayat to be true muslims and obey him. but its us that have to change and obey him. Insha Allah i will try my best to pray five times and i pray to Allah (SWT) that so do other members of the forum too.

[Every soul shall taste death and you will merely be repaid your earnings on Resurrection Day]

Akram

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PAST is experience, PRESENT is experiment, FURUTE is expectations.
Use the experience in your experiments to make your expectations come true.

MashaAllah very nice selection . death is such a truth that noone can deny.it is Allah's love for us coz of which He is giving us time again n again to repent over our sins.whenever v wake up in the morning v should thank Allah that He has given us chance again.Allah says in Quran

HOW CAN U REJECT FAITH IN ALLAH? SEEING U WERE WITHOUT LIFE,N HE GAVE U LIFE,THEN HE WILL CAUSE U TO DIE, N WILL AGAIN BRING U TO LIFE,N AGAIN TO HIM WILL U RETURN(2:28)

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Allah is He,than Whom there is no God ;the Sovereign,the Holy One,the Source of Peace(n Perfection),the Guardian of Faith,the Preserver of Safety,the Exalted in Might,the Irresistible,the justly Proud glory to Allah!(High is He)above the partners they attribute to Him.(Surah e Hashar,verse #23)