He hadn’t prayed in years.
Life had pulled him far from the masjid from Allah, from anything that reminded him of faith. Work, friends, and distractions filled every silence his heart once used for remembrance.
Then came the phone call.
His mother the one who never missed Fajr, who made du’a for him every night was gone.
At the funeral, as the imam’s voice recited verses about returning to Allah, something in him cracked. He stood by her grave, staring at the soil that now covered her, and for the first time in a long while, he felt completely alone. No career, no friends, no plans just the weight of regret pressing against his chest.
He fell to his knees, tears soaking the dirt.
“Ya Allah,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She’s gone… but I’m still here. Please don’t let me die like this far from You.”
That moment became his turning point.
He began with one prayer shaky, unsure, filled with tears. Then another. Soon, the Quran that had gathered dust in his room became his closest companion. Each verse felt like a message from his mother or perhaps, from the Lord she’d taught him to love.
Months later, he returned to the same grave. But this time, his heart was different softer, alive. He smiled through tears and said, “Your du’a was answered, Mama. I found my way back.”
Because sometimes, Allah has to bring you to your knees before He raises you again.
Sometimes, He takes the person you love most not to punish you, but to bring you home.
