On tomorrow and justice…

My mind wouldn’t let go of this, so here it goes…

Tomorrow will be the preliminary hearing session for my divorce court case. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it for some time because I though I had enough crap on my mind, but I thought it was time to ask my dad.

So I asked him yesterday what was expected to happen since it was the first hearing session and well, Egyptian courts are known to stall anyway. So, he called up the lawyer, and they chatted for a while, I tried not to pay much attention because that would automatically make my mind jump into too much conclusions and I just needed to hear things bit by bit.

After hanging up, he told me that the husband’s aunt refused to receive the notice anyway, and that it has been sent to them via a registered letter which they received a couple of days later. *cough* typical *cough*. Their expected reaction is either to not show up at all, or show up and ask for the matter to be postponed to stall.

He told me that with a calm expecting smile, which got on my nerves a bit even though I expected it myself.

So tomorrow is nothing. Tomorrow is nothing. This was what I have to tell my mind and my system in order to not get too anxious to breathe.

What a great justice system we have. Things have to take time I’ve been told; for all legal procedures to be done properly and effectively, time must be stretched and consumed.
For the welfare of the oppressed and the benefit of the innocent, things must take time.

But the oppressed and the innocent are in desperate need of justice, sometimes they cannot afford to wait until the time comes. Isn’t Justice about being served on time as well?? But whose time?

In this meantime, he gets to enjoy my blanket, MY BLANKET, the one I laid under when I needed to feel warm and protected, and the one I hid under when I needed to cry so that he wouldn’t hear me.

In the meantime, he keeps most of my stuff, that I don’t remember needing until I need to use them; like my pair of suede gloves that I barely ever wear, unless when my hands get extremely cold that they can’t get a good grip of the steering wheel. My older son would have gotten too big to ride his little car, and my younger boy would have gotten too big to find the special blanket I got big enough so that he can feel warm and comfy in it.

My dad finds these things trivial, most of those who read this blog will too; a part of me kinda does as well, but it’s how I feel nonetheless.

My dad tells me I could go buy whatever things I need; I am a buyer anyways, even if I had access to those. I am grateful I can afford buying other stuff, I really am alhamdulilah. But I want those, probably because I can’t have them or even because I don’t want him to have them.

He’s the one who should suffer and feel unstable and insecure, not me. He’s the one who should worry about all that and consider time his enemy, not me. Time is not being fair to me this way.

Ok, wait. I know I should not say that about time. I even know that the real justice is God, and that He makes things happen in a certain way and make them take certain time.

I know that my perception of time and justice is only human and so is the justice system.

I know the divine system works in different ways with different givens, and I believe.

I don’t know if believing counts when you’re as impatient as I am; I don’t even know if believing counts when you do it because you REALLY want to believe and because you know that if you don’t believe you will lose that solid ground you really need to feel underneath your feet right now.

I really want to believe that justice will prevail, and on time. The optimist in me believes; it’s the impatient me that struggles I guess, or the oppressed in me perhaps.

As for what he gets. I am not sure what shall be enough. Every time past events come to mind or any thought related to him really, I just don’t know if anything will be enough.

Again, I know God is fair and I know He will give him what he deserves, but I can’t help but wonder how would a person suffer and realize it’s because of his own doings when this person is too delusional to stop victimizing himself or stop perceiving himself as the oppressed not the oppressor.

This could be his eternal punishment, to always think of himself as the victim and never sees life as fair. A taste of his own medicine: the feeling that someone has wronged him, without the certainty that they will pay for that. Is that enough?