All I Wanted to Be: A Sister’s Story — Aria J. Malik

Silence is a hollow, overwhelming sound. It oozed into every corner of  the hospital room that night. The sound of crying filled the room. But not hers. It would never, could never, be hers. The crying came from each and every member of my family present. My mom, my dad, my brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, my pastor, even the photographer. But I was silent. Numb. Here I was holding the only thing that I wanted most in my life, lifeless. Why didn’t I cry? Why couldn’t I cry? What was wrong with me?

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. Growing up there’s only one thing I can remember constantly wishing for: a little sister. Every birthday candle, every Christmas list, every “first star” I saw, every dandelion blown, each and every evening prayer I prayed. And, after a number of years and many prayers later, spring of 2014 rolled around and our parents announced to me and my brothers that my momma had a baby in her tummy. That’s when I knew: Jesus had heard my prayer. And though the gender remained unknown, I knew He was giving me my sister. Immediately, I sprung into action and began to fulfill my sisterly duties. I was filled with such joy and expectation for the later months. I prayed so many Thank You’s to God each night for answering my prayers. Being a sister was all I wanted to be; not a mommy or a princess. Just a big sister. That was all. 

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. As October approached and my mom’s due date grew closer, my family and I continued to excitedly prepare for the new baby. We decided on outfits for the baby and continued to debate the best names. On October 15th my brothers and I piled into our big, green excursion; pale leather seats squishing squeakily as we climbed in to head to my momma’s final wellness checkup. My momma went in while the rest of us waited in the car, happily entertaining ourselves. When, suddenly, my dad received a call. He immediately got out of the car and led each of us, each completely perplexed, into the clinic. I only remember vague, distant flashes of what occurred next. Sitting with the receptionist behind the fancy desk, picking out Frozen stickers and drawing coloring books, smugly looking at my brothers who had to sit in the waiting room. Then, my parents emerged from the checkup rooms. Silently, my dad picked me up and led my family, back to the car. 

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. But that dream was gone. There was no heartbeat. She was gone. The drowning, suffocating silence filling our car was thick with grief and confusion. I don’t remember much of our conversation. I don’t even remember how they told us. But I remember one thing from that silent, still ride home: Jaffer leaning over to me and saying “On the ride home. Don’t say anything. Just pray.” And that is exactly what I did. The whole ride home I prayed that I was sure that He did it for a reason, but maybe, just maybe, it couldn’t be true? 

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. All I had ever asked for. There had to have been a mistake. But there was no mistake. He is too good. Too merciful, loving, and just. The Lord planned a good work through that little girl. I just couldn’t see it yet. 

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. And I was, just not in the way I had planned. Death is confusing, but even more so for a six-year-old girl. As I sat in that hospital recovery room, in my favorite flashy floral shirt and skirt. Conner said I shouldn’t wear it to the hospital. But flowers were happy. So I wore them anyway. Cuddled safely in the rocking chair right next to my heartbroken momma, the tiniest little life was placed in my arms. I held her. Gloria Micah Malik. My Gloria. My prayer. My sister. She was all I ever wanted. 

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. Knowing that, you would have expected me to have felt a type of anger or frustration at the Lord, or an overwhelming sense of loss and despair. But I don’t recall feeling anger toward God one time. Instead, I now realize that what I once mistook as numbness was peace. An overwhelming sense of love and presence. I remember thinking two things over and over: “He does everything for a reason.” This small, sunday-school line brought me such contentment and allowed me to sink into the love of my Lord, bringing an abundance of peace found only in Him. Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. And, after years and years of asking God for a little sister, he answered my prayer. A little sister all my own, to have, to hold, to love. Then, to let go. And let God. She was never mine to keep. She is fully and completely His. Forevermore. My little Gloria, His little Gloria. Born October 15th, 2014. Into the hands of God.

Being a big sister was all I wanted to be. Gloria Micah Malik. She made me a big sister. Just not in the way I had planned. But it was the way He planned it. The Lord used my little Gloria to bring glory to God and God alone. Through my sister’s death, my family gained life. An eternal, everlasting, and hopeful life in Jesus Christ. And for that, I could never be more thankful. Soli Deo Gloria: to God alone be the glory.

What Scriptures did you cling to on the hardest days and nights?

I was quite young, so I don’t remember the vast majority. But I remember a big one in my life was Psalm 56:3. I remember clinging to the comfort of its truth. The other one that comes to mind during the more present day is James 1:1-4.

What songs or hymns comforted you?

It is Well with My Soul 

What did people (or your parents) do to minister to you?

I specifically remember how my parents showed how to grieve in a healthy way. Yes there was pain. Yes there was confusion. But there was also peace and love. I remember how my parents made sure we understood that God was working through this and each of us at that time. But they also let us each grieve in our own ways. I know for me I didn’t break down until a couple of weeks after. And instead of bombarding me with questions my momma just held me and prayed with me. Another huge thing I recall is seeing how my parents supported each other. Having been a kid during that time, I truly believe it is so important for parents to be an example of what it looks like to still grieve in your own way but be there for your spouse and come along-side them with Christ at the center. It is a memory that has never left my mind. 

What should people NOT say to someone in a similar circumstance?

I distinctly remember someone asking me “Aren’t you even a little glad because then we couldn’t play by ourselves anymore.” Another was the general idea that I wasn’t a big sister. I often felt pushed out of the older sibling category and into the stereotypical youngest because I “didn’t know what it was like to have a younger sibling.”

What hope has Jesus given you in your loss of Gloria?

It really opened my eyes to the idea that there aren’t any accidents when it comes to His plan for me. Not only that but it also showed me the power in prayer at a very young age.

How has Hope in the Mourning encouraged you?

It has been encouraging to see so many other stories. It’s helpful to find a story that you can relate to and yet have it impact others in so many different ways. I have also loved seeing how the Lord has worked in each of these people’s lives and revealed Himself so wholly to each of them. It is truly incredible to read about each experience.