A Chapter I Didn’t Plan

 

A Chapter I Didn’t Plan

May started so beautifully for me.
It was almost magical.
All my manifestations were working, and I actually thought “Okay, maybe the universe is listening this time.”
But then… life did what it always does. It flipped.

Doctor visits, endless blood tests, new opinions, and a bunch of confusing reports became my reality.
And no I didn’t tell anyone.
Not because I didn’t want to. But because I was tired of free advice and sympathy that doesn’t come with real support.
Everyone thinks they know what’s best for you.
But sometimes, only you and your family know what it really feels like.

Still, habit is habit, right?

Even when my body was drained, my heart still dragged me to the bookstore.
That’s my healing place.
Books are therapy or at least, they were supposed to be.

One day, I walked into this bookstore, and the shopkeeper instantly knew I was going to take at least two hours.
He smiled and led me to the back a dusty storeroom full of untouched books.
I swear I forgot all my pain there.
So many titles, so many genres. It was like entering a secret world.

I was on call with a friend and he kept warning,
“Don’t buy more books. Seriously, you have enough.”

But do we ever really have enough books?
Anyway, I bought 12.
(Okay, fine, I went back another day too. But let’s not talk about that.)

I sent most of them through courier to where I’m staying right now.
But I kept one with me.
It’s blue. It’s quiet.
It’s titled: “Who Will Cry When You Die” by Robin Sharma.

I haven’t read it yet.
I just hold it every night before sleeping, look at the cover, and think…
“What if this book is asking me something I’m already thinking too much about?”
And then, it began.

The constant questioning.
To my husband:
“If I die, will you remarry?”
I’ve asked him this so many times, I think he’s ready to block me.
He always replies,
“Please take your medicine and stop saying nonsense. And your not sick just feeling low”
I annoy him. I know.
But honestly? That’s just my fear speaking.
I don’t want to die.
I just want to know if my absence will mean something to anyone or not...

My friend, on the other hand, handles me with a different kind of patience.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says.
“Stop saying you’re unwell.”
Even though he’s the one who sends me reminders to drink water, eat, and take medicine every single day.
(If I’m “not unwell,” why do I need so much care, Muhtaram?)

Yes, he made me a diet chart for me. And yes, I still forget to eat.


Why do we do this?
Why do we keep asking people if we’ll be remembered when we’re gone?
Psychology calls it “reassurance seeking”.
When we’re physically and mentally exhausted, emotionally vulnerable, or feeling invisible we look for proof that we matter.
Not in dramatic ways. Just… silently.

I once read:
“People who ask about death don’t want to die. They just want someone to convince them to live.”

And it stuck with me.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing.

And you know what’s crazy?

The ones who care the most they don’t say, “I love you” all the time.
They say,
“Drink water.”
“Take your meds.”
“Don’t skip meals.”
“Text me when you reach.”

That’s care. That’s love.
But when your own mind is low, even love feels like background noise.

It’s not their fault.
It’s just… hard to feel warmth when you’re standing in the cold too long.

That day in the bookstore, I had two things in hand
A bunch of medical reports and a book asking “Who Will Cry When You Die?”

I paused.
Sat on a bench.
And for 10 minutes, I just kept thinking:
Who will stay for me?
Who will remember me?
How long before I become a forgotten story?

Hard truth?
No one’s world stops.
People move on.
They cry. They cope. They continue.
And that’s not wrong.
That’s just life.

I’ve lost people too.
I thought I’d never breathe properly again.
But somehow, I did.
That’s Allah’s design He gives sabr with the pain.
Not before, not after but with it.
That’s how we survive.

Sometimes I look at my child and wonder:
Will they remember my voice?
Will they miss my smile?
Will they need a photo to recall my face?

Etc.....Etc........ alote of thoughts coming and goonnneee....

This thought scares me more than death itself. Painful thought....

This blog is not a cry for attention. It’s not me being “too emotional.”

It’s just me finally saying what I always wanted to say because I don’t know what Allah has planned for me. But I do believe whatever He has planned is beautiful. Until then, I hold on with Sabr and Tawakul in Him.

Who knows, maybe this is my last blog. Maybe it isn’t. But just in case it is I wanted to say it all, one last time.

At some point in life, we all wish for death during moments of pain, hopelessness, or silence. But when you come face to face with death, when it feels so close that you’re unsure if you’ll see the next morning or even the next hour trust me, fear begins to creep in. You start to feel like, ‘I still have so much to do, so much left to experience.’

That’s when you realize death doesn’t come with our permission or our refusal. It arrives only with the will of Allah. And believe me, no one truly wants to die. Deep down, we all just want a little more time.

Anyway, I know this sounds like I’m overthinking while writing this.... Maybe I am. Hmmmm.


I’ll be fine, InshaAllah.
And when I bounce back I’ll be louder, messier, strange book purchases, and even more annoying.
So no you don’t get to live peacefully just yet.
I’m coming back to disturb you.
Promise.