A Tribute to My Son

This post is neither political nor poetic; it is simply personal and deeply emotional. It has no links, except one, and that is to my heart. I was initially hesitant to write this because it is deeply personal and still very painful for me. But in the end, I decided to share it.

I am not writing this to seek sympathy or to preach. I am writing it to share a difficult chapter of my life’s journey, in the hope that perhaps someone may learn from some of the lessons I learned along the way, or find some comfort in my experience. Sometimes in sharing our pain, we are reminding others that they are not alone.

September 14th is a date I will always remember. Seven years ago, I was blessed with a precious gift from God a beautiful baby boy, my son Ali. 

Every mother who is blessed with the joy of giving birth believes her child is special. But my son truly was special. He is an angel in heaven. He filled our lives with so much joy and happiness in the short time he was with us. A year and five months later, our precious gift was taken back by his Creator.

I cannot recount the painful and tragic events of that day, nor can I explain how it happened. Although six years have passed, it still feels like yesterday, and the pain remains just as intense. My life suddenly and tragically turned upside down. Everything that once seemed important suddenly felt trivial and meaningless.

Losing a loved one is one of life's greatest pains, but losing a child is a pain no parent should ever have to endure. It is an excruciating sorrow, an everlasting agony that no parent can ever truly prepare for or forget. It tears you apart and, with time, becomes an ache that settles deep within your heart, a heaviness that stays with you for the rest of your life.

I miss my son every single day, but especially today, on his birthday, I miss him tremendously.

A mother never truly recovers from the loss of a child. You simply learn to live with a missing piece of your heart. You wake up every morning and carry on with life while knowing that a part of you is missing forever. On a day like today, that pain of missing him becomes overwhelming.

So I am writing this post as a tribute to my dear son, to remember him, to honor him, and to thank him, and above all, to thank God for blessing my life with him. Although he was with us for such a short time, his impact on our lives has been everlasting.

The loss of my little angel changed my life, my family's life, and the lives of some of our closest friends. It made me reconsider my priorities and reflect deeply on life and the Hereafter. In so many ways, it was a wake-up call.

I am a Muslim, and my faith is what held my husband and me together after losing our child. It was through faith that we found the strength, patience, and, above all, the ability to accept and persevere through such an enormous calamity.

Just as having him was a blessing, losing him was also, in its own way, a blessing in disguise. His loss brought us closer to God. It taught us to appreciate every moment of this life and every blessing He has given us.

In Islam, we are taught that a parent who loses a child and patiently perseveres while abiding by God's commands will, by His mercy, be reunited with that child. The thought of our child waiting for us at the gates of Paradise, taking our hand and welcoming us, is one of the most beautiful promises a grieving parent can hold onto.

What more could a mother ever wish for her child than to know that he is safe, at peace, and in Paradise?

My husband and I look forward to that day, the day we are reunited with our little angel.

My journey through grief and depression was a long one. I experienced many of its stages. I desperately searched for something that would help put me back together and ease the pain. I tried counseling, although I never accepted medication. I tried Reiki, but eventually stopped because I was reluctant to open my chakras. I painted, something I have always enjoyed. I wanted to write and express the roller coaster of emotions I was experiencing, knowing that writing can be therapeutic, but for a long time I simply couldn't. So, I resorted to the one thing that came naturally: endless crying.

The only thing that could get me out of bed each morning, pull me together, and make me go through the motions of the day was my children. My family and friends were there for me throughout it all. They stood beside me, supported me, and tried in every possible way to bring me comfort. For that, I will forever be grateful.

But what I needed most was God. And He had been there all along. All I had to do was seek Him.

Don't get me wrong, I was a practicing Muslim, but I have to admit that I was not a fully committed one . I never asked myself the cliché question, "Why me?" I simply struggled to comprehend and cope with the pain and enormity of my loss.

As my pain intensified, so did my search for closeness to God. And with that closeness came the comfort I had been desperately seeking. I found an inner peace and serenity that I had never known before. And, eventually, I found acceptance.

Immediately after my son's funeral, my husband and I traveled to Mecca and Madina, where we performed Umrah, the smaller pilgrimage. We had performed Umrah twice before when we lived in Saudi Arabia, but this journey was different. It carried a meaning and a depth that I had never experienced before.

As I came to understand that nothing in this life is guaranteed and that none of us knows how much time we have been given, I decided not to keep postponing a journey I had always intended to make later in life. Several months later, at the end of the year, I performed my pilgrimge "Hajj"; the journey of  a lifetime.

The point I am trying to make is that having faith can give us the strength to survive even the most devastating experiences. And if you don't have that faith, seek it. Hold onto it. Because without it, a calamity of this magnitude can become unbearable and, perhaps, destructive.

I pray that no parent ever has to experience the loss of a child. And I pray especially for all the mothers and fathers who have lost their children. May God grant them patience, serenity, strength, and peace. May He ease their pain and help them persevere through the unimaginable and enormous pain.

I am forever grateful to God for all His blessings, but most of all, I am grateful that He blessed me with enough faith to withstand such a tremendous loss.

God  was generous and blessed me with the joy of motherhood not once, but four times.

And then, two years later, I was blessed once again with another child. I gave him one of God's names, a name that means gratitude. He was a much appreciated gift; a blessing and joyful final addition to our family. So when people ask me how many children I have, I always say:"I have four children." Because I do.

May God bless and protect all of my children, always. And may He bless all of your children and keep them safe from harm. Every mother wishes for her children to be granted a place in Paradise. I am grateful to already have an angel there, hopefully waiting for us.

Finally, I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that there is always a lesson and wisdom behind what God chooses for us. We may not understand that wisdom immediately, or even in this lifetime, but I believe it is there.

We must never forget to appreciate all our blessings and should be thankful for the hardships, because life will inevitably bring us many tests and tribulations. Every hardship shapes us and teaches us something. Every trial has the potential to bring us closer to God and help us become better human beings.

Our time in this life is short and precious. We should make it worthwhile by loving more, appreciating more, giving more, and trying to make a difference, even if that difference is small.

Happy birthday, my beautiful angel.

Until we meet again. ❤️

Peace

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