Since November 3rd, I Speak to Allah a Little Longer.

What I lost on earth, I now, hold in prayer.

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It wasn't a goodbye, it was "until we meet in Jannah, In sha Allah"

If I told them that silence speaks louder than grief, would they understand that I've learned, how to cry without sound? to pray with a heart that has wounds still fresh.

Would they see how absence can breathe, Filling a room with unseen warmth, Where a soul once lingered, not in this world anymore, But in the mercy of the One who owns all hearts?

How do I say, "I miss you", in words that would win the hearts of the angels, so that they might rush to the Lord of the Heavens, to beg and plead with Him, to let us meet once again. just once more.

They told me to move on, but can you really move on, from the one who became part of your constant dua?

The sound of their footsteps, the sight of their being, the warmth of their voice, all those conversations left unspoken, all buried along the soul. An aching truth, not everyone truly understands.

There are days I almost forget, days where life feels so normal, until something small reminds me, and I remember it all over again: they're not coming back.

And it feels like losing them for the first time, all over again.

They say time heals, but time just teaches you, how to hide the ache, behind a smile with "Alhumdulillah" on your lips.

It teaches you how to live life, without letting the pain be seen. How to speak of sabr, while your own voice trembles with, ya Allah.

There are days the air feels heavier, as if it remembers your loss before I do. Your absence sits beside me, gentle, but unyielding, like the sound of you, I can only dream to hear.

If I showed them the longing within to meet you, Would they tell me not to weep? For this world was never meant to keep, Those whom Allah has called home.

But I would tell them, It is not loss, but a mere pause, A distance written by the wisdom of (Al-Hakim), A chapter only sealed with peace.

For the Beloved never separates without promise, And the promise of my Lord is true.

That every reunion shall come, In gardens where no tear shall fall, And no sorrow shall ever reach a believing soul.

Because maybe this ache of having to let go, of what was never mine to possess, is just love without a place to go, except back to its Lord, its Creator.

And maybe that's what sabr really is, not forgetting, not being passive, or numb, but just learning how to remember gently.

And so, when November returns, and the wind feels heavy again, I whisper in Dua,

"You took what was Yours, Ya Rabb, but You left Yourself with me, and that is enough."

— Sara S.

كُلُّ نَفْسٍ ذَائِقَةُ الْمَوْتِ ۖ ثُمَّ إِلَيْنَا تُرْجَعُونَ "Every soul shall taste death, then to Us you will all be returned." Surah Al-'Ankabūt (29:57)

A gentle reminder for you and me:

Losing a loved one is not easy. Heartbreaks are not easy. They all take a toll on your physical and mental being. So be patient with yourself. Take time to heal, but remember that whatever the Almighty takes away from you, He will surely replace it with something even better. - Mufti Menk