A number of years of ago my grandmother died. She had a strong attachment to the house that we grew up in. I think that house is what finally brought about her end.
My grandmother was one of the first women from our village to come to the UK to accompany her husband and young son. It must have been a lonely time for her but she was living with her husband and son, what more could she have asked for?
They bought a really nice, really big house. Partly as a place to live in and partly as a security so that the family have something in case my granddad dies.
When my granddad died a short while after finishing paying for the house, my grandmother was only 34 years of age (the age my wife is now). She spent the rest of her days alone (half her life – another 34 years).
Although she had one son (my dad), one daughter-in-law (my mum), 9 grandkids (me and my siblings), and about 8 great grandkids (there’s too many now and I can’t remember their ages so can’t be exactly sure how many there were at the time) I always felt that she looked incomplete. Like she was only half. The fact that she was petit may have contributed to this “half” image I had of her, or maybe it was the constant day dream she always seemed to be in. Either way, there was definitely something.
Quite a number of years after losing her husband it was decided that the best use of this property was to convert it into flats and let them out as a supplement to the family income. In order to do this, the family would have had to move out. Gran, mum, dad and some siblings moved to a much smaller house. Gran objected to this initially, in her “half” way. She looked to me like she wanted to live out her days in the place that was purchased with the hard work of her late husband. Maybe she felt he brought it for her and it would be disrespectful to him if she moved out.
Either way, she eventually agreed to move out. Telling herself there was still going to be members of family living in the place while the conversion works were being undertaken (namely me and my brother – with our own families). It was a way of giving us our independence and also getting us to finance part of the upkeep of the place while this major conversion project was on-going.
The work began, then a year went by and it was still not finished. Then another year passed and still no end in sight. So I decided it’s probably best I just move out. All this dust and living in a building site couldn’t be good for me and the kids.
My Grandmother was diagnosed with cancer about the same time I brought my new house. I’d brought it to have my own independence (from my brother) and move out of the family home (which was brought by my grandfather 45/40 years earlier).
We were in and out of hospital while my grandmother was there having her treatment for throat cancer. Working our day jobs, running around after the kids, and a few other things. A very busy time for all of us. My brother rang me one day and said that he’s found a place to move into and wanted a hand moving a few of the heavy things. I was at his new house about to start offloading the last few bulky items when I had a phone call from dad saying that the hospital called and said they don’t think gran has more than a couple of hours left of her life. So we quickly unloaded the van and got to hospital in time to stand by the bed and read anything / everything we knew as she took her last breaths.
Three years after the funeral:
I’d not long been sat back at my desk, after the world’s most trying audit review sign-off, thinking “can this day get any worse?” when the call from the police came.
“Mr Hussein?”
“Yes”
“It’s PC Plod, I’m the local community liaison officer in Bucks. Unfortunately we have some bad news for you”
GREAT..!! Just what I needed……
“There was an incident in the Muslim section of the cemetery last night and one of your family members graves may have been damaged” He went on.
I was wondering why he’d call me and not my dad, but then I remembered it must be because I’m the one who brought the plot where the grave sits as I wanted to take the pressure of sorting that out away from my dad.
Luckily it turned out that of the 20 or so grave stones that were damaged, my grandmothers wasn’t one of them.
Some questions that I often have on my mind are:
“Can people be attached to material things of this world so much so that it could kill them?”
“Is it an attachment to said item, or does it have more to do with how the said got there?”
Then I run through the chronology of my grans death.
-Her husband brought a house for her security.
-When he died she lost half herself.
-When she moved out of this house she lost a little more of herself (but kept strong - thinking at least there is some of our blood still in this house)
-When I (the second to last blood member to do so) moved out, she almost gave up her will to live, she got cancer.
-When I was helping my brother move the final bits out of this house that she held so dear to her heart, she realised that there’s no going back to the house that her husband had brought for her. There was no connection left with him on this planet. It was time to go meet him in heaven.
-And with this thought, took her last breath and was no more.
Comments
May Allah grant your grandparents paradise, ameen.
Are these questions what you're referring to in the title of this blog?
I think it is true that people can get too attached to things and it's not a good thing, however I don't believe it *literally* kills you.
First of all, it is Allah's will for the person to die, they have not simply decided to go, just because they cannot bear life any longer.
Secondly, stress, which can be brought on by life-changes can lead to more serious illnesses, or can stop you from recovering from other illnesses, if you already have them.
But in my opinion, an unhealthy attachment to things/people kills the soul more than anything. It can make a person forget the ultimate goal, or it can make people have hope in only one thing or so on and so forth. You see people just working and working, for the money, or the status or whatever, without stopping to think about others, or to take care of their duties properly. Their soul is what is harmed and is slowly dying.
I'm just talking about people in general, not your gran's attachment to the house. The attachment to the house is expected, I'm sure she had a lot of great memories in that house and it was hard to let go. Just like any big change people have in their lives - it is hard to absorb it all in, at first, and takes time getting used to.
"How many people find fault in what they're reading and the fault is in their own understanding" Al Mutanabbi
Yes, whose are the questions that I was talking about in the title.
Sometimes doctors can't even believe that someone pulled through and at times like that, I think, it's "the will to live" that helps them recover.
I was at the hospital talking to one of the nurses and she said to me "I can't be sure because of the language barrier, but it seems to me that your grandmother has given up all hope"
It was sad to hear this, but it also confirmed what I'd been thinking.
Yep hope is a strong thing, and changing the way you think can really get you through things.
I can't remember the exact quote (and which scholar it was) but also remember reading that having a strong iman preents/cures mental illnesses like depression. Cuz when you're depressed, you give up hope in Allah (swt), you don't trully believe everything is in the control of Allah swt and whatever is happening is for your benefit. You're just down and lose this hope and trust in Allah, and start to think there's nothing good in your life, etc etc etc. So changing your way of thinking and stregthening your imaan is vital.
But again, I'd like to stress, your gran was always going to die when she did. Allah had willed it so.
"How many people find fault in what they're reading and the fault is in their own understanding" Al Mutanabbi
I know - I've learned a few sad truths since her passing that make me think in some ways it's good that she's gone where she has. I know she wasn't happy and didn't have much support from her nearest and dearest - but that's a whole other story. I think the 5m character limit on these blogs is not enough to cover that story. Maybe you can read about in part two of my biography.
wow you've found the character limit for blogs! lol
"How many people find fault in what they're reading and the fault is in their own understanding" Al Mutanabbi