The Certain Truth -Yasmeen

She stood alone, far away from the men and women who were on their knees in utter devotion to their Lord. She was covered from head to toe in black satin but she felt naked inside, as though someone around her could see right through her. Her face told a story; her dark eyes contained the traces of childish enthusiasm of a girl, her skin now lined with worry, like a wilting rose petal did not do justice to the youthful spirit that was caged within her.

The power of age made her insides warm, so warm in fact that her soul was rejuvenated. She could not remember for how long she had been in that little corner behind the herculean, marble pillar but it felt like a lifetime. It was as though her entire life had passed by her and now she was living through the spiritual power of her surroundings.

She was naïve for her age. Once full of hope and optimism, like a jasmine in its very first spring; nothing could bring her down. But like every bloom, every sapling, every insect she had to weather her very first storm. A storm that would bring her one step closer to a reality that was entirely surreal to her; a veracity of actuality, the greatest adversity of creation: the truth of mortality.

Truth was a baffling concept. Some found truth in disappointment or hardship, while others are introduced to it during moments of extreme happiness, and achievement. However in the midst of dealing with her worldly affairs, she forgot that the biggest, and possibly most certain truth in life was death.

She never for a second thought that every game of trumps, family gathering, and phone call or text message might be the last. It was tragic, but also eye opening because she realized that all it takes is one moment for an entire life to turn around. All it takes is one, simple moment to realize that someone so dear to her could leave her permanently.

            The thought of her role model, with every passing day, moving one step closer towards the embracing arms of death, made her sick to her stomach. She was not ready for the truth. Memories of holidays spent together, like photographs in her mind, burnt a hole in her chest, making it harder and harder for her to believe. Memories of cakes and birthday wishes burnt a hole in her mind, making it harder and harder to focus. But most notably, memories of a loving father and his undying support burnt a hole in her delicate, fragile heart, butchering her soul and leaving her bare, naked and unprotected.

            Tears poured down her face like raindrops during a storm, why wouldn’t they stop?

            The graceful man got up from the prayer mat and moved towards her. His pearly white shawl could not compare to his glowing complexion; he was indeed a beautiful reverie. Sick, yet beautiful.

He had been looking at her from a distance, reading every thought in her mind. He knew that he was the reason for her pain, for her tears, for her sorrow. He could not stand his child suffer like this; he had to comfort her.

He gently put forward his hand. Without hesitation, she placed hers on his. It felt like home. His face radiated a supernatural illusion, one that pleased her greatly as he pressed onto her hand, comforting her. Gradually she felt her hand and arm relax, as though they were falling into a deep sleep. The sensation crept onto her legs, numbing them, paralyzing them. Her eyelids started to get heavy; she wanted nothing more but to give in to the lethargy. She could no longer think straight but she was content. Her heart calmed down with every new beat. She was with him now; she no longer worried about tomorrow. She no longer cared about all that would change in her life in the future. She understood that he wanted her to cherish his time on Earth and to live with him in the present, not give up living because of the darkness of the future. The man held onto her hand as she felt her feet on the clouds, far away from the chains of time, the chains of pain.

As she lay on his lap, she came to terms with the devastating hardship she was undergoing; there was no running, there was no hiding. She would finally get acquainted with the most “certain truth.”