They say the human life is as short as the duration of a single prayer. The prayer for the adhan that is called upon our ears when we are born is performed upon our death. Our lives consist only the time between that adhan and the prayer. We do whatever we would do within that duration. The deceased have already passed this passageway and taken their turn in the queue. We are the ones waiting anxiously.
If the deceased is someone we loved and cared for, they leave behind a deep hole. We feel as if huge wells have been excavated within our emotions, our thoughts and even our real worlds, and we are rolling from one well to the other. Neither our minds nor our senses work. The feeling most of the companions, particularly Umar (ra), felt must be that kind of an emptiness on the day of our beloved Prophet's death, as described as the darkest of all days by Anas bin Malik (ra). In times like this, a wise man is needed who knows how to prevail his emotions with his mind and his sorrow with his faith. Just like Abu Bakr...
Even when we feel this way for the ones we love, how could the mothers possibly bury their children? Even though a mother's love is universal, each of us has her own way of perceiving sorrow or happiness, and the way we manifest these emotions is unique. One's happiness and sorrow is summed up to his wisdom. The ones who do not have the wisdom as to what to rejoice and what to feel sorrow for, and who have not reached the submission that comes with that kind of wisdom are bound to rejoice and to grieve with their instincts (inner selves/nafs). They get happy for the things that nafs enjoys, and they feel intense sorrow when their nafs is hurt. Yet, the happiness and the sorrow of the right minded would be totally different.
Umm Ayman whom the Prophet Muhammed (pbuh) described as "my mother after my mother" was one of those right minded ones who immersed both her happiness and sorrow in her faith. The companions of the Prophet found her crying when they visited her after Prophet's death. They thought that she was crying for the loss of her son. When they attempted to find words to console her, she said something that would again set them straight: "I am not crying for the death of the Prophet (pbuh), but for the revelation to have come to an end." Afterwards, they all cried together.
When the good ones among us are gone, the good on the Earth partly lessens. The mother of the mothers, Umm Ayman, teaches us that it is the very thing we should feel sorrow for. Blessed women who have the character of Umm Ayman, how much we seek to learn from you! In this vein, I wish mercy upon my sister, Ayşe Özel, who is one of the best people I have known, and a beautiful patience for her mom who is of Umm Ayman’s character. My supplication to my Rabb is for her descendants to inherit this goodness. Oh my Rabb, do not diminish the goodness inside us!