We will Decorate Mom’s Tomb to be Just like Dad’s One
2012-06-05 - 12:09 م
Bahrain Mirror (Exclusive): Jenan and Mohammed two children who will remember 14 February Revolution in pain for the years to come. 2011 was not their good omen. The following year did not allow them to forget.
Death that snatched their dad and left them orphaned, visited again and to seize their mom. They could have lived like other children; nonetheless, fate had different schemes. On 8 September 2011, their dad Jaffar from Demistan Village departed their world after suffering wounds and injuries inflicted on him by the police when they raided their house searching for his brother. Fate had shocked them again by their mom’s death on 26 May 2012.
Since their dad’s death, Jenan phoned her aunt every week to come over and buy bouquet of flowers to visit her dad’s tomb. That girl seemed cynical, in her eight years she understood death, she paid her dad farewell in patience, then paid farewell to her mom in content. She knew well that she would not see them again, would not sleep close to them, would not smell their odour. Despite all of that she does not cry, she smiles and discusses issues painful to adults. She does that in painful cynicism.
Her aunt Dalal, said to Bahrain Mirror that interviewed her at her house: ”Jenan asked me to buy flowers bouquet to take it to her mom’s tomb. I feel worried about her. I have seen her cry only once since her mom’s death, her mom died in the same hospital ward that her dad had died in. Her temperature rose, didn’t go above 38 or 39. Her mother took her to hospital, but there she got convulsions and remained in hospital for four days, on the fifth day, they called her brothers to take her to the resuscitation room. We didn’t know what her illness was; they said she suffered an inflammation in the chest, or an inflammation in the head, until now I don’t know”.
That ward bore some of the two children’s pain. It was the same place that their mom breathed her last breaths, as their dad did last year after he had returned from a short trip of treatment from Jordan for his injuries that he suffered at the hands of the police. He was exhausted, he refused adamantly his two children see him in that situation. He could not move. He was fragile. He wanted them to keep a beautiful image of him. He preferred to see them after his health improved. However, the white bed was the last place he went to before going to his grave.
Before their mom’s death, their mom dreamed of a tall man dragging her, she did not know that man. Zainab, their mom, did not realize then that death was waiting for her, and that tall man was a long departure that she did not prepare her two kids for. I asked Jenan if I asked you to tell me the most beautiful thing between you and your mom, what you would say. She replied innocently and cleverly: Love, she loved us so much. Dad too, loved us. I only miss their love.
During her mom’s mourning rituals, Jenan sat closely beside her grandmother. A woman came and gave the grandmother an envelope. Jenan asked her what did she give you? The grandmother replied: envelope, Jenan asked: What’s inside it? The grandmother replied: Money, I guess. The child replied: Do you know what we’re going to do with this money, grandma? We will build mom’s tomb and decorate it, and put flowers on it, just like dad’s tomb that has that beautiful dome.
Nobody can assess the pain that death leaves on people’s souls today, or tomorrow. Jenan the child who wears the mourning black clothes does not seem to realize its volume, its depth or pain, despite an aura of sadness that surrounds her face. She spends her time like any other children, playing and laughing. However, her brother Mohammed does not look to understand the meaning of the loss yet.
Jenan will miss her mom’s steps, their moments together, their adventures in the kitchen and their short picnics. Mohammed will miss his dad’s laughs, and the horse neigh while riding it together. I love dad because he loves me, he takes me to play, he feeds me by his hand, and he buys clothes to me. Mohammed will miss all of that, just the way he missed dad when he left in a silent coffin. He will miss his mom who is sleeping beneath the sand. He will miss her odour when they shared bed the three of them, he, his mom, and sister.
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