Death speaks...

There were three deaths in my family in the last thirty days. One was an 85 years old grand-uncle.He died of old age but had to walk with one leg for the last 20 years.Then a younger cousin,who was only 55 years of age died the next day due to an accident in a car driven by his own son.The latest, a week ago, was another grand untie who was 80 years old,died due to old age.

This is a reminder to me that everyone who is living will have to die someday,you and me included.The only thing that no one knows when and where he/she is going to die- a well kept secret. Honestly,I do not wish to know mine;would you? Looking at the number of my family senior members are dwindling,it will not be very long for my time.Life is very short indeed...

It is inevitable that everyone who lives must die.There is no question about;it is a fact that everyone of us agreed. For those who believe in the hereafter,the question that begs the answer is how prepared are we to face death??Just compare the preparation we have done to live...and compare that with our preparation for the hereafter?

Most of us remember death only when we attend a friend's or a family member's funeral.In less than two days if not earlier,we forget that we also have to die like them.We continue living as if we may not die as yet or worse as if we are going to live forever.It is always someone else and not us.Why bother? Most people don't even want to talk about death;and in a certain community,it is a taboo.

This reminds me of a short story.Here it goes:-

There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back,white and trembling,and said,Master,just now when I was in the market-place I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was death that jostled me.She looked at me and made a threatening gesture; now,lend me your horse,and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate.I will go to Samarra where and there death will not find me.The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went.Then the merchant went down to the market-place and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, Why did you make a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of suprise.I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra. (Author Unknown).

The moral of of the story is self explainatory.I would not like to add a word to it.As any good food,one has to chew himself/herself to have a taste of it..

When I was in the primary school,my father used to take me every Friday morning to the cemetry near my kampung to recite prayers to our dead relatives.He showed me the graves of my ancestors,some of whom I have never met when they were alive;and also my elder sister who passed away at birth.Every time I go back to my kampung for Hari Raya,it is now my turn to show them to my children.Thanks to my late father who brought me to the cemetry,otherwise my children will be disconnected from their roots.

To my humble understanding,life is not short if we believe in the hereafter.If our lives were to end at the graveyards,then I agree life is really short indeed.Just consider the amount of efforts/money  taken for a man or  a woman to be born,educated,grow up,live and finally die!Not only it is short,but it is also a waste if we were to live only till we die.Two years ago,my Islamic religous teacher asked me how old I was.I told him I was forty six then.He asked how much of that time that I have lived gone for 'ibadah'?I dared not tell him the truth for it was very little indeed.According to him,to have a long life without 'ibadah' is useless;for in the hereafter 'ibadah' is the only acceptable currency.Ringgit and US dollars have no value there.........

I smile to him when my imagination visualised a lot of rich men to-day will be cycling and a lot of poor men will be chauffered driven in the hereafter.