It was such a wonderful and memorable week for me, the days of the week started and ended just as I had envisaged – running by in a flash. By midweek, Wednesday exactly, I couldn’t attend class, it was my graduation from school! And I didn’t want to miss it for anything – The journey of five-years-turned-six had finally come to an official end, and I alongside thousands others were admitted as degree-holders, with the whole ceremony that accompanies such event. It was fun experiencing it all, and I felt absolutely thrilled and grateful to my creator for the journey that led me up until that moment. Some had said “why the need for celebration, this isn’t the real deal, wait until your call to bar and do a bigger celebration.” I said: if only you knew. This is actually as much a big deal for me as would any other celebration to come.
My parents, children and some close family members came to celebrate with me, it was a moment of joy and pride for me and my parents especially, and my kids were full of questions. I remembered attending my mother’s graduation some twenty-something years ago, and the feeling of hope and determination it awakened in me, I told myself I would love to go to that school and put on their graduation gown too someday, here I was! I didn’t end up attending the University of Ibadan, but I have another graduation gown and cap on and I wanted my children to witness that, with the hope that somehow, someway, it would awaken something in them too. I did tell them in fact, that someday in sha Allah, they’ll be in a gown similar to this, being celebrated by all and sundry. I was elated to have them with me on such a day.
The week was an emotionally draining one for me as well, I cried more than I’d done in a while, upon remembering my late husband and his impact in my life, how much he supported my dream to study law and ultimately become a lawyer, even when it appeared that our marriage was suffering due to the pursuit of my dreams. I remembered telling him I could do without studying law, I was willing to forego my dream of becoming a lawyer and I should simply continue with my journalism, afterall it was a field I was passionate about and I did absolutely well there, graduating as the only distinction student of my set, I’d only just completed my National Diploma in Journalism from NIJ – The Nigerian Institute of Journalism, then. He reassured me that we were going to work around our differences, that the pursuit of my dream is only a number of years to attain to reality, he encouraged me to get the jamb form and prepared my mind to go after my dreams. I recalled how we had to deal with his sickness when I was in my penultimate year in unilag, how we had to travel to India at the start of the session for his treatment, missing out on crucial academic works and returning to school simply to write my exams, the grace of God that saw me through that, and the favour that God bestowed upon me in seeing me through the completion of that school session without any issues with my grades despite having to leave school for weeks again in our second semester, as we had to travel to India again to complete his treatment. I remembered his selflessness and smiles in the face of it all, his words of encouragement and his constant reminders, his acceptance of me and my flaws, his loving chastisement when I erred and much more. The tears were uncontrollable, still were as at the moment I was putting this down.
Then came the time after his loss during the “Pandemic year”, when I had to show up and resume school after my “iddah” (mourning period of four months and ten days), weathering the storm of my grief and a loss of a huge support system, I had considered deffering the session until I was much more healed and ready for any stressful academic work, even at the point of writing my exams, I simply wanted to leave it all behind and move on with what’s left of my dream(life) – taking care of my kids and myself, being there for them all I can and striving to be better with what he’s left me with. But I rose, through Allah’s blessings in form of loved ones who rallied around me: encouraging me, supporting me, my children inspiring me, His mercy over me in making me experience love again from where I least expected, His promise of ease manifesting in my life, I remembered all this and I cried even more for here I am today.
This is a story of Grace, Mercy and sheer Triumph! And of blood, sweats, a live lost, another regained. A story of resilience, failure and strength, Gratitude, joy and love, And of true pride, success and favor unmatched. This is my story! And which of the favors of my Lord will I deny? Absolutely None!
At the end of the week, when all was said and done, I looked forward in excitement and expectation of a great sight, a comfort and joy to behold, a hope for my weary soul, a gift of Allah the most beneficient…But I was reminded of Allah’s words: “…But they plan, and Allah plans. And Allah is the best of planners.” Q8:v30
Now I wake up each day, to a renewed hope and optimism, and an unwavering trust in Allah as the best disposer of all affairs. I believe “…if He (Allah) intended some mercy for me, could they withhold His Mercy?” *Say: “Sufficient for me is Allah; in Him those who trust (i.e. believers) must put their trust.” Q39:v38
Mar’yam Thaoban NobleHeart 23.1.’22
journalofastudentmother 