“How did he feel when he wept at his mother’s grave? What was it like to have never known his father? How did he feel losing his grandpa so young, and his father figure uncle when he so badly needed him and so deeply loved him? What was it like to have watched his best friend, his love, his wife, get so weak and sick and pass on without him? How did he bury his sons Al Qasim and Abdullah when they were so young? How did he handle the grief of the death of his daughter Ruqayyah in the prime of her life in the very time he and his companions tasted the sweetness of success at Badr? How did he cope with his daughters Zaynab and Umm Kulthum both passing away before he did? How did he hold back from complaining when he was losing Ibrahim in the midst of his child’s adorable beauty? So many of you have lost loved ones. In your loss is a connection to him; in his losses is a connection to us in the depths of our own pain. Out of God’s mercy, He gave us an easy way to feel connected with our Beloved at any moment, and it’s a rope we can hold onto when it seems like there’s so much darkness around us, when it’s so hard for anyone else to understand. The salawat isn’t simply a means of reward and forgiveness. Maybe Allah gifted it to us to help us feel like we had an immediate connection with our Beloved, especially when our hearts are gaping. When the tears flow because of the hardship, remember who went through it and let it link you to him. Synchronize your heart with your lips and say: Allahuma, send Your peace and blessings upon him. And those blessings will be sent back to you.
اللهم صلِّ على نبينا وحبيبنا وقرة أعيننا وعلى آله وصحبه وسلم.”
―Maryam Amirebrahimi