A True Friend (Part 2)

(You can read the first part of the story here.)


At home I told my mum about Mawada and she agreed to take me to the hospital. When I went to the hospital, I saw Mawada’s father sitting outside the room with his eyes red and puffy; I could see that he had been crying. I asked him if I could go in and he nodded. I opened the door and there was Mawada on the bed, she still had a sweet smile on her face. I sat beside her. She told me that she was really happy to see me. I couldn’t say a word. Then she said that it was her dream, her wish that she’d bring all her friends towards Islam, and she told me how she used to go to Quranic classes and Islamic workshops to gain information and to follow the Prophet’s (sa) mission. She said that sometimes people listen and sometimes they don’t, but we should never lose hope and keep moving on. My eyes were filled with tears. She told me that I was the only friend she had at school, and that she enjoyed spending time with me. I couldn’t stand what she was saying. I told her that she was not going anywhere and was going to get better very soon. She looked at me, smiled and then said: “May Allah (swt) make us neighbours in Jannah’ (Ameen).” At this, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t handle it, I hugged her so tight – I didn’t want to leave her. I told her that it was she who changed me, even if it was a little change. Mawada smiled, my mum came in and said that it was time to go home. I hugged Mawada again and wiped my tears. I smiled and said: “Get well soon.”

At school, I couldn’t concentrate. I kept looking at Mawada’s empty chair. As I walked home, I remembered the times we spent together. Today is 26th April, Ms. Fatima came into our class, looking really weird, as if there was something missing. I realized that she had no make-up on and looked pale. At first, she didn’t say anything, then she cleared her throat and told us that Mawada had passed away, and that she had been suffering from leukemia. Tears began to trickle down my cheeks, and I started to cry.

After school I went home and told my mum about Mawada. She also was sad. I ran upstairs and closed my bedroom door. I started tearing down the posters I had on my walls, I pushed the CD rack and it broke, all the CD’s were on the floor. I threw them in the rubbish bin one by one and dived on the bed and started crying. I looked up and saw that I had a Quran on the upper bookshelf. I took it from the shelf and started reading. There was a verse which said: “Verily, in the remembrance of Allah (swt) do hearts find rest.” I prayed to Allah (swt) and asked Him to forgive me. It was time for Asr prayer – I got up and went to pray immediately. I asked for forgiveness and prayed for Mawada.

After Mawada passed away, I always had an empty feeling inside of me – something always felt wrong. I started doing what Mawada told me to do: wear the Hijab, listen to my parents, read the Quran and so much more. It was hard to believe at first but reading the Quran was actually very soothing and relaxing. I felt really connected to Allah (swt) and began to fear nothing but Him. Wearing the Hijab was very risky, considering the fact that I would become Hijabi girl part 2. I did it anyway. People did make fun of me, and my so-called friends like Farasha stopped talking to me. I realized, who my true friends were. I also realized that people are not that willing to change, if it doesn’t suit them. They are bluntly ignorant of the truth – I found out through my own experience.

Slowly, encouraged by my example, my family also changed. My mum and sister started wearing Hijab, my dad started going to the Masjid at least thrice a day – it was a start. Some of my close friends also changed a little. Not enough to wear a Hijab but enough to stop listening to music.

Mawada was like a light (Noor) in my life, guiding me back onto Allah’s (swt) path. I now learned that we all need to be lights in the lives of other peoples; touching the heart of even one person is the ultimate reward. Insha’Allah, by helping others, there will be ‘Noor’ in our lives, too.