The Last Hair

The Last Hair
by Fatima AKA me :)
February 20, 2009

Today my husband's last hair was gone. I couldn't help the sadness that surfaced from seeing it. If you're thinking my husband & I lived a long life together and this hair is the last one on his balding head, I say to you: I wish it was…but Allah's will is superior to all. My husband passed away years ago.
We lived a normal married life. We had our ups & we had our downs. The rooms of this house are filled with memories. They have laughter from all the funny moments we shared. There are dried up tears on the couches where I clearly remember crying & thinking "Did I make a wrong choice in marrying this man? ...should we work it out or separate?"
There are all types of screaming hidden in these walls. The happy scream when he surprised me with a ticket to visit my family. The girly 5th grader scream when he tried to pick me up (& almost dropped me!) because I joked about wanting a "piggy back ride" during our newlywed years. The screams of anger filled fights.
No matter the emotions though, these rooms had another thing: Hair. My husband was a hairy man. Nothing abnormal, just your typical "non-Western" guy (Arabs & Desi people will feel me on this one.)
I live in a non-carpeted beige tile house. I used to mop, vacuum, pour water and squeegee the floor, then mop with an old shirt, then grab a cloth to clean tough to reach areas….I'd walk into the room seconds later & find a hair on the floor. AHHHHHH! Beard hair! chest hair! leg hair! head hair! It didn't make any difference when I cleaned, how I cleaned, or how often. Every time I sent food to a neighbor, I imagined the embarrassment if a little hair flew in.
After my husband's death, we did the normal process: funeral, friends visited, I grieved, and then I took it day by day. The first year I hung onto everything that reminded me of him. The second year I donated some of his clothes, until the years passed where the house had little traces of him except what little memories I kept. I adjusted slowly and of course as any woman, I cleaned when I needed to.
I was so used to cleaning up hair when I mopped that I didn't realize they were disappearing….until now. I stood there staring at this small curly hair. I saw it amongst the dust I swept and froze. It had been a while since I'd seen a hair when I cleaned. I picked it up with the delicacy I held our first daughter when she was born. How long ago it seemed that this little thing bothered me?
Subhanallah, how when I cleaned, my mission was to rid myself of the hairs once & for all…but now that I did, I sat in amazement.
I sat on that floor for what felt like hours…and cried. I cried because I missed my husband, hair, laughs, fights & all. I cried because I spent so much time stressing on something so useless, something that was a part of him. If given the choice now, I'd deal with it differently.
I cried because, at that moment, I just needed to cry. Then when I was done crying I made dua.
I asked Allah to bless all Muslim wives with patience & love for their husbands, every single part of their husband even down to the hair on their bodies. Ameen. I asked Allah to make all the Muslim wives grateful that their husbands are still alive & use this gratefulness to strengthen the bond between them. Ameen. And lastly, I asked Allah to bless every woman who has ever lost a husband she loved and reward her with Jannatul Firdous (Heaven). Ameen.


My Note: I wrote this years ago when my husband and I were in our first couple years of marriage. I looked for something to be grateful for about the hair situation and couldn't. Then I realized, if I ever lost him, I would be grateful for everything that connected me to him. This story started spinning. I typed and sent it to a small group of sisters that I was the moderator of. Allah willed that it spread like wildfire. This was before social media was big so probably most of it happened by clicking "forward" through email. As the years would pass, I would see it shared here and there and smile, never claiming credit for it. I once saw it with another sister as the author. I hear she's announced that she didn't write it but only shared it and whoever copied it thought it was hers. I never cared to correct the mistake or take credit because it was posted exactly as I wrote it. And that's all that I cared about: was that my words weren't altered. Recently, a friend shared something on a small group of my friends about cherishing our children that reminded me of it so I shared it and mentioned I was the author. I was so humbled to hear most of the sisters on there had read it and it had touched them. As it resurfaced into my life, it feels right to post it here on my corner of the internet. It feels like a baby I sent out in the world and helped others and now it's time for it to come home and help people who visit this site. I tear up every time I read it. It reminds me of what's important and connects me with anyone who has ever lost a loved one. I hope it serves you in some way today.

Fun fact: We didn't have any children when I wrote it. So although I have a daughter now, in the story it was just a hope. Alhamdolilah, Allah gave us her.

Hugs, Fatima