Deathbed Legacy

Deathbed Legacy: What do you want to leave behind?

Sorry...I am at it again.
I suppose the quixotic quest is steering me into some taboo areas, but these are issues I need to deal with.

I remember during one of Dr Lim Guat Tin's lectures. She looked squarely at all of us, and candidly threw this question. "What is your deathbed legacy?". There was an audible gasp in the lecture theatre. What did that have to do with the topic of organisational learning?

How does one want to be remembered? What are the things we leave behind besides all our worldly possessions?

In Islam, I have the best example to follow. Prophet Muhammad (pbup)on his deathbed said,"I leave behind two weighty things: the Holy Quran, and my revered family. And he who holds firm to these two will never go astray."

Of course, that is the ultimate legacy...followed by Muslims all over.

But for flawed mortal like me...how do I want to be remembered? Or will I ever be remembered?

About two years ago, I had an uncle who suffered from prostrate cancer. He had married late in life, and his two children are about the same ages as mine. The illness took its toll on him, and his once much admired physique was reduced to skin and bones; ravaged by the terminal illness.

It was painful to watch him waste away. But his spirit remained admirable.
He went about...making preparations for his passing. He spoke to his children to prepare them, telling his son to be 'the man of the house.' He put his finances in order, so that the family will be provided for. He made his peace with all his friends, and sought forgiveness from everyone.

It was tough for us; who were praying for him to get well.
But the more we hoped for a miracle, the more openly he spoke about what he wanted done. He spoke about regrets, but he made the most of his last days.

A day before his passing, he had looked well, and we were lulled into thinking that he was on his way to recovery. He spoke over and over again of 'going home'.

After I recited a prayer into his ear, he took my hand, and beckoned me to come near. "I entrust you...to help look out for my son and daughter...their education." The voice was faint, but clear. My eyes brimmed over, as I watched the laboured breathing. "Don't cry. God loves me. I get to say goodbye." I clenched his cold, clammy hands, as if willing to transfer some of life's energy back to him.

His last hours were 'peaceful'. He had refused morphine to take away the pain, so that his mind would be clear, and that he could recite God's name. I thought that whenever he was lucid, he would gaze at his family, drinking in their images...

When he drew his last breath, only his wife was there, saying the last prayer for him. I knew that he got his wish, for no one else was there, by his bed, to cry.

In retrospect, he was indeed blessed...a man who got to leave a legacy of bravery and deep faith for his children to follow.

What will I leave behind?
God...show me the way.

In memory of Abdul Alim Sidik bin Abdul Hamid -
Al-Fatihah.