Bismillah
Assalaamu Alaikum,
I read Yaseen for my mother today like I do most mornings. As the last messenger instructed us to read Yaseen for our dead. When I think about her life I often wonder if she is proud of me. I wonder if she would approve of my accomplishments or if she would tilt her head to one side and raise one eyebrow until it pulled the corner of her mouth into a wry smile. Sometimes I almost hear her voice, “you have got to do better.” We would share a laugh because she was the only person who held me to a lofty standard without the need for judgement, guilt or blame. I loved her with every piece of myself. When she died she took a part of me with her.
The more days I live without her in my life the more I begin to understand the true meaning of grief.
This was my mother’s birth month over 70 years ago. When I sit to memorize Quran, when I contemplate on the meanings of Gods final word to humanity I am often struck with awe at how a single verse can strike through my flesh and awaken my soul. For my mother it was sura al-Ankabut that brought her to Islam. I am still benefitting from her choice to believe.
