Are we sad or are we angry?

It was about eight months ago when it all started. Who knew it would end all too suddenly? Today, one of our own is gone, this is the reality! We have lost him who, ever since the loss of our dad, became a father and friend. Together with him, we mourned the demise of three other brothers in their prime; now he has joined them (may Allah have mercy on their souls). Back then, he was our strength and even in death, he wanted us to have same strength: he scolded anyone who shed tears in his presence. Looking at him lying still in his casket that Thursday … it was the end.
  Yaya Bala was a fighter, he strove on during his sickness until destiny finally revealed itself. Initially, he led us to believe he was only suffering from ulcer because he wanted to spare his family the anguish of knowing his real ailment. It was not until a donor from his siblings was needed for a liver transplant that he finally admitted the truth. He did not need to search too long for a donor; three of his siblings volunteered without hesitation; two made it to India within the shortest time. Obviously, it was not in The Creator’s master plan that a liver transplant would take place. Hence, due to some medical jargons, the hospital in India explained to the donors that the transplant had to be delayed. Day by day, we waited for the moment of salvation until the reality of losing him stared at us rudely. And that was during his short visit to Nigeria to assuage his aged mother’s troubled mind, who was oblivious of his predicament. That was when we understood the irreversible damage the cancer had done.
While growing up, Yaya Bala always left us with pleasant memories and these same memories mock our senses today. I remember when he would make us compete for one reason or the other. We would struggle to win the coveted prize (never mind if that prize was a thunderous applause). I also recall when Yaya would take me along as company during some of his journeys. He would cook our meals, claimed he was a better cook than I, a lady and took me for sight-seeing not withstanding his position. On one of such trips, a colleague of his once asked; “Bala, is she your sister?”  He answered sarcastically, “No, she is my girlfriend”. And it was in the course of one such travels that I received the gift of my first Qur’an from one of his friends. Though later in life, things changed, family, etcetera created a gulf between us, yet those memories kept us close.
    Are we angry or sad that we lost big brother? Why should we be angry? Because we could not stop him from returning to India? Should we be angry because some doctors in India refused to tell him what doctors in Nigeria knew? Should we be angry because we couldn’t hold his hands during his final days, rally round him, pray together, smile through tears together and give each other strength? Should Mama be angry because she could not even speak to him when he needed her? Are we angry that our relationship had to end like those of strangers? No. We are not angry! This is destiny and no one can change it. Though the reality makes our grief heavier, we pray for faith to reconcile ourselves with this fate.
And as we collectively laid him to rest on Thursday 14th of August 2014, we really, really give gratitude to The Almighty: for giving Mama strength which surpassed our expectation, for his friends who could not hold back their tears, for all his friends in the military and civil world who stood by us. We give gratitude to The Almighty for the awesome turnout of people who waited tirelessly for the final funeral which could not hold until after 8pm. We give gratitude for his beautiful life which his own father (rahimahullah) described as resilient. May jannatul firdaus be his final abode.
Fatima lives in Kaduna