My girlfriend paid me a visit. She was a devil. When I was alive, I saw her as a pretty angel-my pretty angel who loved me and would do anything to make me happy. If I had the ability, I would have cursed her and demanded her to leave the morgue. She put her hand on my forehead. I allowed her to do that for the past four years. Now that I was opposed to it, I could do nothing about it. The devil cried for hours at my side. She just would not leave. I felt cheated. I felt like she pulled a prank on me for the past couple years of my life. I hated this devil! She was ugly! She smelled horrible! She finally left. As she walked out the door, my heart was filled with fear and anxiety.
The funeral was simple. My body was washed. I didn't seem to care that my naked body was exposed. My worries far surpassed my desire to be modest. I was wrapped in three white sheets. About three hundred people attended my funeral. I was saddened not to see my mom at the funeral. I wished she came to see me one last time before they put me in the ground. I never knew so many people cared about me. Many just stared at the tightly wrapped figure in disbelief. Others cried and cried some more.
The mass prayed for me. Thousands of individual prayers were made. They asked Allah to have mercy on me. They asked Him to forgive me. I wanted to pray for myself, but I couldn't speak. I was helpless. I was carried to the hole in the middle of the barren desert. The people followed. It seemed like slow motion. I didn't want to go. If I had 24 bonus hours, I would pray non-stop. They lowered me into the ground. The anticipation was eating away at me. I had surely failed life. I thought back on everything that I had worked so hard to accomplish. I earned a college degree. I had a well paying job. I spent hours and hours in the weight room ever since I was 16 years old developing my body. I had a pretty girlfriend who loved me. In that life, that was a badge of honor. But as they were lowering me into this grave, which seemed like it took forever, I realized that I couldn't use any of those 'accomplishments'. If only I had been that dedicated to making salah five times daily, I would have been at peace right now. Instead, I am a nervous wreck beyond anything you all can comprehend.
Dirt fell in the hole. Darkness overcame my new home. The last shovels of sand filled the grave. Everyone sadly walked away. The graveyard started to empty. Family by family. Mine was the last to leave. The attendant left. By nightfall it was just me. All alone.
My wrapping was soaked in sweat. I nervously awaited the angels to come and question me. They finally did. My final judgement has not been reached yet. I am now waiting for judgment day. Still lying here, alone, as day comes and night falls. Soon, I will meet Allah Himself and He will decide whether He will forgive me or not. I can only lay here, wait and hope that The All Forgiving, The Most Merciful, forgives me and does not punish me. I hope. That is all I have right now. Hope.
By Brother Saleh Ali.
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