The sorrow of parting

I helped my littler sister move into her accommodation at Liverpool on Friday I was rather mean when she was exchanging goodbye hugs with my parents, I would drop a few words to remind her of their scarifies and struggles in brining her up. My mother carrying her for 9 months etc I succeeding to make her cry (Ifrah hates to be seen to cry)

After she whacked me a few times with her bag we boarded the car and started the drive towards her new home for the next 3 years. We got lost but eventually made it Alhamdulilah. During the journey we had a chat about her expectations and her fears (poor love was scared) understandably and rather bitter towards Manchester for not offering her radiotherapy course.

We arrived, dumper her stuff and when along with her best friend (the ever entertaining Asia) to get some food. Hmmm I didn’t warm to the city, it can’t possibly compete with Manchester I mean this is a city with one Masjid (poor ifrah) and being such a coconut am sure it wont help that the Masjid is in somali central (about time she socialised me think)

Friday night came and to both our horror ifrah Forgot to bring her Duvet and pillows…At first we laughed about it but my the time fajr came and the aches and pains of sharing a single bed without a pillow not to mention the unbearable heat radiating from the sleeping bag we used as a cover, I cracked and took my sleeping bag to the floor providing ifrah with jackets as a cover.

Saturday was emergency shopping day and all praise to the lord ,TJ Hughes was situated around the corner. Then it was food shopping and by out 4pm we were introduced to the most corrupt muslimah we have ever met. Ifrah has the misfortune of sharing a flat with poor ifrah.

By 6pm while ifrah and I had taken refuge in ifrah’s room from the erm…Muslimah who was encouraging us to go clubbing later on…while putting her bottle of wine next to ifrah’s orange juice and introducing us to her boy friend (ahhhhhhhh….poor ifrah)

Ahamdulilah by 9pm a decent muslimah arrived who was just as daunted as ifrah by the trauma of moving away (a budding friendship of need ensued). By Saturday 11pm Ifrah was adamant she was coming back with me on Sunday and changing course, after about an hour of crisis management she had managed to suck up her fears and got down to making du’a for Allah to provide her with good company.

My Sunday morning we learnt that one of the girls was moving out (unfortunately not the alcohol gosling muslimah) and that a Malaysian sister is moving in. Ifrah has a very high opinion of Malaysians and is now making Du’a that the sister is practicing.

Make dua for my baby sister ( when I had to leave her at the train station, from the train I saw the tears forming on her little face and that broke my heart, I cant imagine how my parents must have felt as she boarded the car to leave. I can honestly say It was the first time I have ever carried on a train but thank god the man next to me was asleep. They say you never appreciate your parents till you have children of your own. Lets just say I appreciate them a little more now that my baby sister is out in the big wide world all alone. May Allah grant my parents jannatual Firdaws and provide ifrah with a solid group of Muslim sisters Please make dua for her.