I am aggrieved. It took a while to sink in. And when it does, I know I wasn't supposed to. But I couldn't halt it. My words fumbled in between sobs.
"Mak, Osama dah mati.."
Never met the man. Neither too privileged to. But shreds my heart to bits to hear the joyous celebrations in his demise. Even from the young Muslims side of the divide. Even from the supposedly learned. Their remarks.
I dunno much, how could I for this is His, The Almighty's business. But what I DO know is people like him. These selfless individuals who in their days fought like an unleashed lion and in the nights prayed for Syahid, these people, you wouldn't catch them adorning TIME's front page or being voted Persons of the Year et el.
They lived, at times having people wondering just what the hell is so wrong with him ? Why is he so poor ? They answered the calls of their Khaliq. They lived poor. Died impoverished. But in death they have, in finality so long after looking for it - The Martyrdom that so they crave ever since setting off from the wars they will never return from, so long as the Taghut, enemies of Allah roams free in the Muslims' lands. The land of our Prophet.
I know this from first hand, second, if you may. A cousin of my mom who fought against Nasara agressors. Came back and returned for more. And finally he returned home a blind man. Only this time the disability stopped him from returning. His life, materially, was nothing to be spoken of. He was poor. He was blind & on the run. His death, a beaut - in the arms of his Mother. And the numbers that show up for his final prayer, simply amazing for a man who was rarely home.
"We ask Allah for vistory, and we ask Allah to grant us Shahada', running TOWARDS Him, not AWAY from Him.." - Sheikh Osama Bin Laden