My dear cousin passed away. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.

I don't even know how to begin. I always thought I'd handle someone passing away, but I'd never lost someone so close to me before. I live abroad with my mother, while the rest of her family is back in the Philippines. We used to visit every couple of years for a few months, but things changed, and the last time we saw everyone was in 2023. We have many cousins, but one was especially close to me and my mother. Let's call her Aisha. She was the kindest, most understanding soul, always making sure everyone was cared for. She was probably the most loving of us all. I say 'was' because, as life goes, we all grew up and drifted apart a bit. We have our own lives now, and I get that, but I still miss the old days. I miss us all squeezed into that cramped but cozy living room, watching Filipino dramas, laughing at the commercials in between, sharing colas and chips. Aisha got married in 2023. It was an arranged marriage, as is our way, but both she and her husband consented after getting to know each other. Her husband is a sweet and kind man. He grew up with four sisters, so he knows how to help around the house and is very caring. Things got complicated between her and his sisters. I don't want to go into details, it's not really the point here. Eventually, she and her husband decided to move out and live somewhere far from that house. Anyway, a few weeks ago, Aisha started to get very sick. She became too thin, pale, and said she was hurting all over. A doctor checked her but found nothing. They got a second opinion, and strangely, it was the same answer. She ended up in the hospital. She was vomiting blood, and her father was so worried. The hospital bills kept getting higher, and the family isn't well-off. We sent money to help, but we couldn't go to the Philippines ourselves. I'm in college, and there are no flights because of the war. One of our aunts told us that Aisha's mother lashed out at her, saying Aisha was sucking them dry of money and should just stop living. The aunt said it broke her heart to hear Aisha crying-not a full cry, just tears of pain, like she didn't even have the strength to sob. Her mother has always been problematic and didn't take good care of her. Our other aunts willingly took turns watching over Aisha, treating her like their own child. My mother, hearing there was no diagnosis at all, suspected it was black magic, that Aisha had been cursed. We believe in these things. My best friend's father died the same way-a long, suffering death-and it turned out to be a curse from a resentful friend. He confessed after the death but said he couldn't take it back. That's what my mother thinks happened to Aisha. Her father and siblings called someone knowledgeable about such things, and he confirmed it was a curse. He said it was from one of Aisha's sisters-in-law. He even suggested transferring the curse back to that woman. Her father agreed, but Aisha herself refused. She wouldn't budge. Then earlier today, the aunt taking care of Aisha at the hospital called my mother, crying. Aisha couldn't speak anymore, couldn't open her mouth, couldn't even blink. My mother spoke to her through the phone, demanding she stay alive and fight. We were all making dua for her, praying she would pull through so we could all taste her delicious sinigang again when we visited. I couldn't speak on the phone; I'd just stutter and get nervous. But I told myself, 'No, Aisha will stay alive. She will get through this. That won't happen. She will survive.' I kept telling myself that. And now? My aunt texted my mother: 'Aisha's gone.' My mother and I were in disbelief. She texted back, 'What do you mean she's gone?' My aunt replied, 'Aisha is dead.' I was in complete shock. At first, I didn't cry. The tears hadn't come yet. My mother was taking it incredibly well on the outside-she rarely cries-but I know she's heartbroken. Then I started sobbing. I tried to wipe my tears quickly because I'd just done my skincare and lash care, but at that point, I just let myself cry. I feel so sad. She wasn't supposed to go like this. It shouldn't have been this way. She should have lived to grow old with back pain and knee pain, with her husband she could lovingly nag. They were looking forward to having children and raising them together. I haven't even seen her since 2023. I haven't even talked to her properly, just texts. I feel so much regret. And I feel angry at her sister-in-law. I believe her soul is already rotting in hell, and I pray that whatever evil she sent out comes back to her as a punishment in this life and the next. We can't do anything. Aisha is gone. We can't accuse that woman because we have no evidence; it already sounds unbelievable. Her husband probably doesn't even know; only we do. I don't even know how to grieve. I've never had to because, alhamdulillah, no one in our immediate family died while I was growing up. This is the first time. And all I've done is cry, drink water, and plan to eat shawarma while watching my favorite series. Does that make me horrible? Even while I'm sad, my mind keeps jumping to what I need to do now or what I can look forward to later. I hate that feeling. Writing all this out has helped me calm down a bit. It's long, I know, but I needed to talk it out. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.