Thanksgiving Day was a day of sports viewing, of cooking, of snacking, of online browsing, of random conversations, and of Syrian desserts with tea. Seven years ago it also included literary discussions, my blog, and my dad’s faith in my art as a writer. As hard as some have anticipated today would be on us, it was more weird honestly; and though I planned on making this week’s post about the concept of life support, I bookmarked it for next week and let today focus on the celebration of memories as a part of the grieving process. On understanding the temporariness of all things as a part of life.As kids, we knew, if a Lakers game was on, 🤫 🤫 🤫. Dad legit assumed coaching duties on the couch and reprimanded every player through the T.V. when he didn’t “pass the ball!” or “shoot! shoot it, c’mon!!!” Listen, my youngest brother, Karim, was named after Kareem Abdul Jabbar. That’s how hardcore my dad was. He got mama in on it and there’s that story. It’s still too painful to process, though it hits in sporadic crashes. I’m just trying to remember we’re each on this earth for a certain time period, to lay the bricks down for a certain purpose. When we accomplish that purpose, our time is complete here. My dad must’ve completed everything he was on this earth to do and God said, “It’s time.” I look around me, at the life he built for us all, at the skills he taught us knowingly and unknowingly, at the genetics and love we inherited, at the connections and support he offered so many people in the world, then I know. I am reminded, God’s timing means everything and soon enough mine will be up. Once I finish all I’m here to do, however long it’s meant to take, and then I will be in dad’s arms again.
In Islam, the belief is a human is built of components. The core is the soul, known as nafs in Arabic. The soul houses the spirit or spirituality, which is essentially a connectivity and sensation. However, on this earth, a soul cannot exist without a physical manifestation, and hence, the human body. I never actually saw the body so clearly as a vessel for the soul until I saw my dad’s body in its five month disintegration. When I saw him fall into three separate comas, the last being the finale—despite a racing heart rate that I felt with my shaking palm.
The last intense hug he ever gave me, we cried our eyes out and maybe it’s because our souls somehow knew this would be it. His time was up, and as sad as that is for our hearts to digest—because we yearn for who we love—trying to frame things in their temporariness in life makes parts of it a little easier to swallow.
Until our times are up and we are reunited with our lost loves, we have work to do on this earth for ourselves and our communities. This is how we serve and fulfill. Sometimes we don’t even know what our callings or missions are but when we finish them, we are summoned back. Sometimes we know exactly why we are here and it makes the temporary time we have on earth even more worthwhile. Seek out your missions if you have not yet found them and seek out the good company to nurture your soul’s spirit in the meantime. It makes the journey a little more livable too. Celebrate gratitude for what you had and what you had the chance to experience, not just once a year but all year long, and until then, heal wholly!
