I have seing this & thought it was good"The Day I Died ...!>I only lived 26 years. My 27th birthday was exactly two weeks away. I >always imagined I would live long. At least until age 60. It just >wasn't imaginable that I would have such a sudden, unexpected death. > >I graduated from the University of Southern California three years >earlier with a degree that means absolutely nothing right now. Shortly >after, I landed a job as the marketing director of a major clothing >company. Aside from the usual life problems, I was living a normal life. > >My girlfriend of 4 years was starting to pressure me into us getting a >place together. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a girlfriend in the >first place but I enjoyed her company and friendship. I wasn't ready to >give that up. I used to always tell myself that eventually I would >marry her. Plus, what would these few years of living a sinful life >mean by the time I got older? > >My job, girlfriend and life-friends took up the majority of my time. It >seemed I never had time to offer salah. I hardly even had time to sit >down and eat. Offering salah was always something that continuously bugged me. >The more I postponed my salahs, the more it irritated me. I did give an >effort to keep up on my salahs. But for the last two years of my life I >gave up. I pretty much stopped making salah altogether. > >I never made it home in time to make salah that day. SAW 3 was a walk >through the rose garden compared to what I was about to experience. I >was doing 85 on the 10 freeway. At 12 midnight, 85mph is not considered >speeding. Omar flipped through FM radio stations searching for the song >he liked. Malik had fallen asleep in the back seat. I began to doze off >too. I used to hate when that happened. I shook out of what seemed like >a 10 second snooze. I tried to keep my eyes open. But again I dozed off. > >Omar screamed, "HEY!" It was too late. The car struck the center >divider and spun back into the flow of traffic. An on coming car hit my >door. That car was also hit by another vehicle. We finally came to a >halt somewhere in the middle of the freeway, a hundred yards from the spot of the collision. >I didn't feel any pain. I was just dizzy. I heard Omar and Malik >moaning as good civilians tried pulling us from the wreck. > >I wasn't rescued until the fire fighters arrived. It was quite a task >recovering my battered body from my totalled car. Breathing became >difficult. The fire fighters huddled around me and frantically applied >device after device. "He's not gonna make it," I heard one of them say. >I'm not gonna make it? How? I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt >nothing. My heart started pounding. I was soaked in sweat and blood. I >saw Malik standing over the top of me with tears in his eyes. "Don't >quit on me", he told me. At that time I knew it was over. I started to >cry. > >The fire fighters moved him away as they made last attempts to revive >me. I died. An angel came to me and removed my soul. I watched him fly >away with it in disbelief. "How could you? I'm not even 27," I pleaded. "It's time," >he told me and left... > >Two minutes later they pulled a white sheet over me. Omar and Malik, >apparently doing better than me, pulled the sheet back to look at me >one last time. They cried their eyeballs out. I had known them ever >since I was 13 years old and had never seen either one cry. It was a >depressing sight. > >The ride to the morgue, until then, was the worst experience I ever >had. I was alone. It was dark and cold. I missed my mom. I missed my >brother. I missed my sister. I wished I had spent that last night with >my family instead of with Omar and Malik. I worried what my mother was >going to do when she saw me in this state. I was ugly. When we finally >arrived, I was placed in another cold room with dozens of other dead people. > >I missed my family so much. Every so often a family came in to view >their dead. I always thought it was my family but it wasn't. Hour after >hour passed. No mom. No dad. I started to cry again. Then one odd hour >I recognized voices. My father walked in with my mother in his arms. >His face was worn from stress. Hers wet with tears. They just stared >into my eyes and cried. I stared back. I wanted to tell them I loved >them. I couldn't. I wanted to hug them. I couldn't. Mom stroked my bloodied hair and left. > >I was to be buried the next day. When my parents left, it hit me. I >never made Isha! My heart jumped out my chest. I owed Allah a salah and >failed to deliver it to Him. I had hundreds of missed salahs over the past two years. >Now I was about to face Him. I felt powerless. For those of you who >have never experienced guilt at death, there is not a worldly feeling >that amounts to it. It is guilt and sorrow at another level.//en.yabiladi.com/topics/died-44-2083444-2083444.html#msg-2083444 Thu, 04 Jun 2026 19:38:52 +0200 Phorum 5.2.15