Back to Your Heaven
Isma

Ishma..

8 Year old little girl. She was a daughter of her three brothers who were all men.

She's a quiet girl. But always carefree and spoiled with his older brothers.

Her mother and father are still complete. His mother and father were merchants, who went home every morning.

But he's not complaining about it. Isma was always happy and grateful.

At 05:00 in the morning his mother and father had already gone to the market. Rice and side dishes are available at the dinner table, for a day when the mother is not home.

Isma and her sister had breakfast, and they went to school. That's how everyday activities are.

Isma's school home playing. Without a father and mother.

After Dzuhur Isma taught with his friend until Ashar time.

It was only four o'clock in the afternoon that he reunited with his mother and father at home.

That's the daily routine.

Until a long time, Isma could cook his own rice.

Year after year it continues like that..

Isma was very close to her mother. He was also pampered.

His mother was a hard worker. He is tireless to help the home economy.

Isma slalu given pretty dolls.

Isma's grandmother or mother's mother. It's been a long stroke. Isma's mother took care of her. Tiredless he trades and takes care of his mother. It just so happened that Isma's grandmother's house was not far from the market where Isma's mother traded.

Isma's mother painstakingly bathed her mother, changed her clothes, fed her. So devoted was a son to his mother.

Mom looks tired but she never says tired. He looked tired but never uttered from his mouth a tired word.

Even when she was not feeling well, she never complained of pain. What an amazing mother.

Isma saw her mother frequently stroking her head. "Maybe you have a headache?"

One or two times he often saw it, but mother still did not care what he felt.

One morning the phone rang.

"Assynoltom..."

"Waalaikumsalam.." answered the mother on the phone.

At that time Isma's mother's sister told her that Isma's grandmother was deteriorating.

As soon as the mother went to the grandmother's house, with her cries unstoppable.

There Isma's grandmother looked weak. And not self-conscious.

Mom hugged him, as she continued to say: "I'm sorry mom... I'm sorry mom...!!"

All the children and grandchildren there began to gather, offering prayers and teaching together.

Yep... At that time Isma saw the sadness and anxiety of the mother is very deep.

Until Mr. Ustadz said that Isma's grandmother was gone...

"Innalillahiwainnaillaihirojiun's search..."

The crying broke instantly..

All crying... No exception Isma and her mother.

"I'm sorry mom...." Those are the words that continue to be spoken from the lips of Isma's mother.

Until it's all quiet... Then to the funeral.

The afternoon of the tahlilan event began. Isma's mother still cries occasionally. Isma tried to calm her mother by stroking her back.

"Prophey, Mom, grandma is not sick anymore.."

The Maghrib.. Isma's mother never missed teaching. While reading Yasin's letter, he was always sobbing. He said to Isma, "It hurts to leave my mother..."

Isma said nothing.... He just bowed.

After a few days, all activities return to normal. It looked rather calm on Isma's mother's face.

Her mother returned to the market.

"Alhamdulillah mother has looked more sincere and enthusiastic again." said Isma with a smile.

The morning routine at 05:00 food is ready at the table. Mom had taken her tote bag and left for the market. Back home at 16:00

Day by day it continues.....

One day, Isma felt a headache again.

I took him to the nearest doctor. And it turns out Isma's mother suffers from hypertension.

"It is worth complaining about headaches"

"Don't have too many thoughts and soy sauce Mom..." Said doctor.

Then give me medicine. And my mother is getting better day by day.

The more the teenager Isma grew closer to her mother. It's like with friends.

After Isma sat in the 3rd grade of First High School, Isma wanted to continue school at her favorite school. The distance from home to your favorite school is also very far away.

"Yes.hopefully achieved yes son.."

"Hopefully... Your father and mother could send you there."

"Yes Mom.." Isma smiled at her mother's words.

Test for rest Isma... And a week later the results will be told to their respective schools.

Isma continued to pray... I hope he gets accepted into that school.

Until the announcement of results arrives.

With the spirit of Isma go to school. He did not forget to say goodbye to his father's mother. Kissing hands, "pray Isma ya Pa.. Mum..."

"Yes... We're praying for you .."

Arrive at school... Isma sat on the bench, and before long the homeroom teacher brought a notice paper and distributed it to her protege.

"The results are accepted and are not already in the respective paper. It can be read by itself.. And for those who are not accepted do not be discouraged because there are many other schools of choice." Obviously the homeroom class.

One by one the names are called... Until finally Isma's turn forward.

Degdegan... Not because. Fear of disappointing.

He peeked at the paper... Then he closed back.

"Bismilohmanirohim...." Taking a breath and closing Isma's eyes opened the paper.

Busy his eyes little by little..

Then he read carefully from top to bottom..

Eyes teary...

"Alhamdulillah.... Oh God.." Isma smiled widely.

He could not wait to tell the news to his parents.

School hours ended, Isma rushed to her mother who was trading in the market.

" Mother... Isma has good news."

This is a notice paper from Isma's favorite SMK.

The paper was opened by Isma's mother. Read the paper carefully from top to bottom.

" Thank God, son... What you dream of soon. Studying diligently don't disappoint your mother and father."

"Yes Ma... Isma must be studying hard. Isma's gonna be a good boy."

Heart's happy.. Isma looks cheerful. He had imagined his days at a new school, his favorite school.

"Oh yes, ma'am.. Next week he said he could re-list." Isma said to her mother.

"Yes, son, we'll re-list, mother who will take you." Answer the mother.

"Yes Ma... Isma was very happy. Thank God for all these favors."

Her mother smiled, and from her eyes was the pride she showed her son...

His mother told Isma's father.

"Sir.. Isma was accepted into her favorite school of choice." Obviously mother.

"Alhamdulillah yes ma'am. May Allah ease all of this. " Answer the father.

"Aami... Mr." Keep the mother.

Both of them look happy that their daughter can go to her favorite school.