The Wise Old Man
My friend once told me a story about the village in Syria where our fathers grew up. She said that there was a very old but very wise man whom everyone in the village respected and came to for advice. He was kindhearted, intelligent, and enduring, living until his 112th year.
At a point in his last year of life, he said he was going to die the following day, despite maintaining perfectly good health. The villagers, surprised at this sudden remark and the calmness that it was embedded in, denied this and told him they would bring him food tomorrow as a gift. Sure enough, when they came by his house, he was found in his bed, enveloped in serenity. Overnight, some said he had turned his bed to face north*, said his final prayers, and slept for the final time.
In disbelief, I asked my friend if this story was real, to which she nodded in response. Then I questioned how on earth he knew he was going to die the next day. She simply said, "I think you can just feel when your body is about to give out."
Although it has been many years since I heard this story, the wonderment still lingers on my mind by pondering both the eerie feeling of death he acknowledged upon him and his undying strength of faith when on his very last thread.
*In Islam, prayers are done facing qibla, which is the direction of the Kaaba in Mecca, the holy city. In this man's case, it is north.
At a point in his last year of life, he said he was going to die the following day, despite maintaining perfectly good health. The villagers, surprised at this sudden remark and the calmness that it was embedded in, denied this and told him they would bring him food tomorrow as a gift. Sure enough, when they came by his house, he was found in his bed, enveloped in serenity. Overnight, some said he had turned his bed to face north*, said his final prayers, and slept for the final time.
In disbelief, I asked my friend if this story was real, to which she nodded in response. Then I questioned how on earth he knew he was going to die the next day. She simply said, "I think you can just feel when your body is about to give out."
Although it has been many years since I heard this story, the wonderment still lingers on my mind by pondering both the eerie feeling of death he acknowledged upon him and his undying strength of faith when on his very last thread.
*In Islam, prayers are done facing qibla, which is the direction of the Kaaba in Mecca, the holy city. In this man's case, it is north.
This is such an interesting, sad, and mind-blowing story. It also reminds me of how mysterious death is. Can you actually know when you will die? Is there a gut feeling? Or does it come as a shock?
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