(…continued)
- My Son, Her Husband. My Daughter, His Wife.
Rabia would tear every time her little boy, Hasan, recited a Naat at a program. She vividly remembered his very first recital at his preschool Jalsah—how nervous he was, trembling as he stood before the audience. Over time, his confidence grew, and so did the talent Allah Ta’ala had blessed him with. Soon, Hasan was invited to recite almost weekly, and Rabia rarely missed a single performance.
Throughout his teens, he’d have a habit of messaging her just before every program and requesting her Duas for everything to go well. She would await that message, and respond with the most heartfelt Duas for her young prince.
Today, her son was reciting at a Bukhari Jalsah. As always, he messaged her requesting for Duas. And as always, she made the sincerest Duas for her prince. She couldn’t make it for the Jalsah, but she wished she could be there to hear him live, as she almost always was since that pre-school Jalsah.
Apart from her absence, there was something else different this time. There was another message he prioritised sending as well. To his amazing new wife. She too made Dua for him and enjoyed every bit of his live recitation. It brought her to tears.
Just after the program, Rabia receives a message from her best friend, congratulating her on Hasan’s mesmerising recital. She also expressed how sentimental it was to see Hasan’s wife overwhelmed with emotions hearing him live.
That’s when it struck Rabia: “I’m not the only woman in his life anymore.” For years, she had been his last message, his biggest supporter, his most loyal fan. But now, he had a wife. For the sake of her son’s happiness, she realized she must accept that she was no longer his final message, no longer his only admirer, no longer the only one moved to tears by his voice. He was still her son, but now, he was a husband first.
The realization was painful, but Rabia’s love for her son was sincere. Just as she had sacrificed countless times throughout motherhood, she added this to the long list; every painful sacrifice made for his well-being.
It’s this sort of selflessness that makes the status of the parents so lofty. They are the candles, which burn themselves only to light up the life of others. But in this, there is a discreet fulfilment. Because deep down, as Rabia sipped her coffee and drowned in the after-thought of her friend’s message, she felt a sense of fulfilment. One that far superseded any joy that holding onto her married son would give her. A fulfilment that made her daughter-in-law fall in love with her. That allowed her to respect boundaries, create unbreakable bonds with her married children and their spouses, and be the best mother and mother-in-law anyone had ever seen.
She realised that to stay connected, she must let go.
May Allah Ta’ala bless all couples with supportive, loving and encouraging parents on both sides. May He make us parents who’ll be a means of our children’s marriages flourishing. And may He never make us a test for our children, their spouses, marriages or families. Ameen.