#32: ... & remember death often

The day my father in law left us ...

Friday, 16th May 2025 — Just as Fajr Entered

Just as Fajr entered…

That sacred hour when the night whispers its final pleas and Allah is closest to His slaves —

my father-in-law, Yousuf, returned to his Rabb.

It was as if his soul had waited for this moment —

The moment when Allah descends, calling out to His creation:

> “Is there anyone asking, so I may give?

Is there anyone seeking forgiveness, so I may forgive?”

(Bukhārī, Muslim)

And Yousuf — a name I hold close to my heart,

A name that echoes through my lineage,

A name my grandfather bore,

A name I carry in spirit —

He left with a smile.

After six and a half years of pain, of chemo, of radiation, of searching for healing in every path — he left smiling.

Not because the pain was gone,

But because he was ready.

His soul had been washed — through trial, through patience, through surrender —

> “Until Allah removes his sins like a white cloth cleansed of every stain, with water, snow, and hail.”

(Muslim)

He was my shade in this world.

Always there when I visited. Always listening.

A quiet companion who never failed to love, to comfort, to lift.

And when he returned to Allah — I swear —

> “Like a drop from the mouth of a waterskin,”

(Bayhaqī)

His soul left him lightly, longingly.

Because the believer longs to meet his Lord,

“And Allah longs to meet him.”

(Bukhārī)

And Allah honored him with Jumuʿah,

The most honored of days,

When the grave becomes shielded for those who pass.

> “Whoever dies on the day or night of Jumuʿah, Allah will protect him from the punishment of the grave.”

(Ahmad, Ṣaḥīḥ by Al-Albānī)

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And people ask: “Are you sad?”

Yes.

There’s a void — an ache that no one else will fill.

Yes, there’s a gaping hole where once there was his smile, his voice, his presence.

But more than that… there is reflection.

I look at him —

and then I look at me.

I see how blessed his end was.

I see how Allah gave him time to prepare, to purify, to be received with light.

And I ask myself — Will I meet a similar end?

Will my soul be light when it leaves?

Will Allah accept me as He accepted him?

….

Some janāzahs are a mercy for the deceased.

But some are a mercy for the living —

A reminder.

A call to awaken.

And this — this was that kind of janāzah. not only a reminder but beyond that a forgiveness for those who attended it.

The kind that quietly says to every heart:

> “So what is the life of this world except play and amusement, and decoration and mutual boasting among you, and rivalry in wealth and children? Like the example of rain — its growth pleases the farmers, but then it dries and you see it turn yellow, then it crumbles. And in the Hereafter is severe punishment — and forgiveness from Allah and pleasure. So what is the worldly life but the enjoyment of delusion?”

(Al-Ḥadīd: 20)

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To our family — to every son and daughter he raised, to every heart that loved him:

He left behind more than memories.

He left behind a mirror.

Let us not just mourn him — let us be changed by him.

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O Allah,

Receive Yousuf as one beloved.

Let the angels greet him with peace.

Widen his grave and fill it with light.

Grant him the company of Your Prophet ﷺ.

And let his family be raised with him —

Under Your shade,

By Your mercy,

Into Your eternal Jannah.

Āmīn.