Before its too Late

Life is but a collection of experiences; good and bad, and what we learn from these experiences, is what really matters, as these lessons help us get through life’s various obstacles, take better decisions and choices, or at least pass these lessons through to others to use it, positively.One of the hardest experiences that each and every one of us has to go through in life is switching roles with our very own parents.

We grow up looking up to our parents; every girl dreams of growing up to be as beautiful as her mother, a great cook like her mother, a wonderful wife, tender mom and successful woman in society just like her mother. Every boy dreams of growing up to be as hardworking as his father, so active like his father, a loving husband, caring father with a flourishing social life. Our father has always been our very own Superman and our mothers were the "female" version of him.

That was our childhood, with our pink world and innocent dreams, but then time flies and our parents face the hardest and most perplexing time of their lives as they try so hard to pass through the troubling phase teenage years without losing us. Every day is a new challenge to them, trying hard to understand us, to know how to deal with us, and yet everyday they get hurt by us. Things we do or say that hurt their feelings or maybe just feeling useless and helpless is what breaks their hearts.

The truth is we never realized what our parents had to through; we didn't understand how bad we made them feel with our careless actions and selfish behaviors, or simply by saying things that broke their hearts without us knowing how bad its effect would be.

However, life goes on and we finally make it through that crazy era in our lives and start learning the basics of responsibility as we take our first steps to maturity, without looking back to what happened and what we did during those rebellious years, believing that now since our parents are thrilled and overwhelmed with our graduation, our first job and better yet, our engagement, those confused days, insubordinate actions and defiant words no longer matter.

Little we knew back then. Unexpectedly, those dark days from our past come to haunt us, when we abruptly find ourselves in their shoes, and it all comes back to us in a second and hits us so hard in the head , that it might take us days, weeks or even months before we realize what had happened, and what we ought to do.

It’s amazing how we never imagined, predicted or just thought even if only for a second, that one day our Superman/woman will grow old. Yes, really old. Too old that they no longer are "Superman/woman".

It starts with their retirement, but we're still good with that, because we convince ourselves that all our parents need is money to compensate their no- longer- existent monthly salary. We just fool ourselves trying to sink in the ugly truth that keeps floating to the surface of our minds. "Our parents are growing old."

It’s amazing how time can change swiftly from a trusted friend to a hated enemy, as it has always been an ally to the truth, which was always something we counted on in our daily lives, but time starts to be our enemy when it leaves its ugly trace on our parents. Their healths gradually start to dwindle. Diabetes, Hyper tension, Bones problems, Back problems, and the list of appalling words can go on forever. Our parents are no longer Superman/Woman.

What is worse is the fact that they realize and comprehend these sudden ugly changes and altering of roles which flusters them. They have been used to taking care of us since the day we were born, and now, they have to wait, for us, to take care of them.

This, my dear readers, is a two sided difficult predicament. The Son/Daughter is not used to this new role. We have gotten used to taking care of our own selves and our selves only that we find it hard to take care of someone else, and that someone else is no one but our beloved parent, not only that but it's also the aching truth that our parents are not strong anymore, they are weak, needy and helpless.

That fact hurts us just as much as it hurts them, and affects us in several ways just as much as it affects them. We find our selves clueless on what to do and how to react to their impulsive over- sensitive reactions to anything we say and do which is a natural expected consequence to their “aging”.

But wait, it gets worse. It’s when one of our parents reaches the age when they can't even shower on their own. What are you going to do? Will you have the heart to take your very own Superman/Woman to the "Elders home/ Retirement House"? Dear god, I hope not! But I will understand if you didn’t have the heart to carry him/her to the shower yourself either. It is hard. I know! Still, it is something that you must do. Remember what they did for you since you were an infant and this shower will seem like nothing compare to what they did and had to go through.

Am I giving you a hard time reading this? Sorry, but it is for your own good. I need you to think about all of this and be prepared before it suddenly bumps into your head and crash on your life forcibly.I must say sorry again, for what I am still going to say. I know you are all old enough to realize that death is what comes next, whether you like it or not.

But I can't decide what hurts more; the feeling of helplessness as you watch your Superman/Woman suffer in pain while you stand there not able to do anything about it and you just wish so hard if you can take away that pain, you wish if it was you who's moaning in that bed, not them; however all you can say is "Hamdulilah" and pray, till that moment of truth comes again and slaps you in the face with the hardest truth ever.

Your Superman/woman is gone, for good. And as you see his/her peaceful smile and say goodbye for the very last time, you just wish if you can have one last chance, one more minute to say "Thank you and I'm sorry."

Dear reader, say it now, before it's too late!

Marwa Elsharbini

I assume that you have all heard or read about the sad and tragic deadly incident that ironically took place in what supposedly is a justice hall, a so called- court of law. The victim was an Egyptian young lady named Marwa ElSharbini, who was there seeking justice but instead she was sentenced to death by the convicted villain who decided at that moment to be the judge and the executioner. Justice was for sure absent that day.
Apparently the reason behind the crime was that the murderer is simply very sensitive towards the Islamic "HIGAB", the Muslim" LIBASS", which in his blind eyes is the illustration of terrorism and the "LIBASS" of terrorists, mind you as the west is still lecturing us about Equity, equality, freedom of speech and freedom of faith, such incidents prove that they should lecture themselves!



I think of her and I wonder. I wonder about her last words and her last thoughts. As I see her picture I can’t help but ponder many questions in desperate need for answers. I brood over her story penetrating on what could have been the last image her eyes captured before they were finally closed, once and for all. Was it the angelic face of her three years- old child standing there helpless, restless and utterly befuddled; oblivious to what will change his yet- to- blossom life?

Ya rabbi! Did she worry about her little child who's viewing the bloody scene of her and the attacker? Did she worry about her beloved surviving that lethally- noxious encounter? Did she worry if their son would lose not only his mother but also his father?

Maybe she thought hastily of what would have been of Mustafa's brother or sister if he or she had come to the world?

Oh, I’m horrified to ask, how long would it take someone to die, after 18 stabs? A minute, or a second, lord I hope not more than that.

Did she suffer? Did she feel the pain? Was the emotional grief stronger than that of physical? The anguish for departing her "Dunya" so suddenly, although for "alakhra" I am positive she was ready, but her son is still too young to live, to grow and to go on without her.

Maybe she called, she prayed to god "Lord! Bring me justice!", and she was granted the fairness and justice eternally.

Did she say in unspoken words to you, dear god, that she's tired of all the injustice filling her world? Did she pray that you would prove to the world that it is he, not she, who is the terrorist and that it is “them” not “us”, who are radically unjust?

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- Intorduction was drafted by my colleague.

- For more information on the story check the link.