#MyExperience: Childhood

When I was a child (though not too long ago), my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor. At 7 years old I was full of ignorance and apathy; that is what I remember during that time. My mom briefly told my siblings and I what had happened, that he collapsed and she drove him to the hospital down our street. We didn’t know what was going on at the time besides our dad not being okay.

All the burdens of raising children were instantly placed upon my mother alone. My mother was the only breadwinner for our family before and throughout our dads bedridden state. Our dads role was to drive us to school, make us food, and watch over us while our mom worked at the ER till the late evening. She didn’t have a full license, so we starting taking taxis- but then that got too expensive with the medical bills piling so we started taking the bus, and then we got tired of walking to the bus stop so school staff started volunteering to bring us to school. Our mother began working the night shift just to make sure we’d go to school.

I can honestly say that I did not understand what sacrifices and struggles my mother went through during this time. We did not have dinners or balanced breakfasts; a meal from McDonald’s right after school sufficed, as she soon left us to walk to the MetroRail for work and later hear her open the door in time for school. The most my siblings and I did was never complain about the situation. We hid as our mom released their frustration in words they did not mean, and we did not further anyone else’s pity beyond their apologies.

I remember her words clearly. There are no moments more clearer in my memory than my mother’s anger. We knew she meant none of the toxic words flowing through her mouth. She deserved to feel how she did. A patience unlike any other, and surrounded by children who could never truly understand what sorrows she faced daily. We were all under 10 years old at the time, 4 kids in total; she had no time to receive comfort from people, nor receive any from her children who remained unfazed by everything.

I cant recall how many months my father was at the hospital, but it was beyond a school year. I cant recall how many times we visited him, but it was less than 5. Though I understood none of which was going on from these scans and procedures, to really bad hospital cafeteria food- all I could determine was that it made me sad. I cried at the sight of my dad and didn’t inch any closer from the door. He reached out to me to comfort me, out of all people- he needed it most. This is the only visit I can clearly remember. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do so, nor did my siblings. They did not cry but I knew they felt a sense of sadness not fully understood.

I remember the words my dad said during that visit; it was after a procedure. He said he saw an angel while he was being treated- that they asked if he wanted to continue living in this world or go to Jannah. He denied an offer to Jannah even if it wasn’t real or if it was true, so he could resume taking care of us- for acknowledging the everlasting burdens he would place on my mother if he accepted. We learn the tumor’s benign and they schedule a day for its removal.

By Allah (swt) mercy on children, that is probably the true reason for our childhoods time of not sadness, but state of neutrality. We were not scarred and faced our hardships with ease. By Allah (swt) mercy, my mother remained strong- though faltered at times she remained patient and worked all she could to make sure our academia and life did not change drastically, even if it meant she’d never truly rest till the hardship passed. By Allah (swt) mercy, my father did not choose to give up his life so easily- that he was given another chance if desired. I can say that it took years nearing to adulthood to understand, empathize, acknowledge, and appreciate all the hardships and lessons gained from the mercy bestowed upon my family. Though life may reach its darkest point, we must always seek Allah (swt) mercy- for it is guaranteed to arrive.