Heartbreak Vol 1.

Heartbreak Vol. 1
Author: Ifrah Ismail

In that instant, when I first saw her walking by, I never thought that her qadr (decree) was fated to come back to mine. For one of the most pivotal moments of her life and now mine, she returned with a fiery spirit; I could see it in her blood and motions. I saw passion and rage, but something much sadder beneath the surface. I saw the ropes of pain pulling at her heartstrings as she remained fervent and lively. That passion would soon wash away, like the tide at the shoreline receding on a hot summer day, moments before danger encroached. This was the final warning, the last sign before the floodgates gave in and destroyed everything in its way.

As she spoke the words that sealed our fates, the masses around me disappeared, and although we had the audience of a bustling, congested crowd on the busiest street, all I heard were her words. Then, the deafening silence that followed as the ticking seconds played, as my mind attempted to comprehend the small sentence, the simple rhyme of words all said in a single breath, only five consonants and only 3 seconds to say, yet it's still taking me weeks to digest. The taste of it I verily detest, but slowly, I came to the realization of the words she had said. It was as if she and I were in a vacuum; she was speaking, and I was listening, but I couldn't hear her; I was mostly just reading her lips, her wide red eyes dripping, painting her cheeks. 

All I heard was white noise, and all I saw was heartbreak and tears. 

As her lips read, "All of them are Dead."

In silent supplication and whispered prayers, we held each other on that street; what else can you do when a tidal wave of grief hits you, and your only comfort is in the arms of a stranger?

Explanation 
I happened to meet a stranger on the street during the Keffiyeh sale. During our conversation, she revealed the tragic loss of many family members in Gaza. This post tells the story of how everything unfolded. We've become close friends now, bonded by that shared experience.
In retrospect, that story is really about two answered Duas (prayers).
That night, I woke up to pray Qiyam al Layl (Night Prayer), and the last dua I made before Fajr was for Allah SWT to use me as a vessel for goodness. Around 12 hours later, I met her.
After we collected ourselves, still heavy with grief, we walked to get coffee. I told her she might think I was crazy because I believed she was my answered supplication, that I was sent to her.
She then told me that:
I might think she was crazy because she already knew I was sent for her. She asked Allah Azzawajal if there was any humanity left in the world to show it to her the day before.
We cried again and held each other a bit closer after that.