Authors Note: We are back? Here’s to consistent posting. Someone should hold me accountable. As always, thank you for reading.

I’m sitting on a red chair in a humid room. There’s a humming sound coming from the central air, but the air is hot. My mom is beside me on a green bench, speaking to my dad in a language I understand but cannot utter. Across from me, my father, fragile with his grey hairs sprouting, is looking up. His eyes are on the television. There’s a college basketball game, but there’s no sound. His hands are moving, and the tremors are not so bad today. He is on a bed, white sheets covering him. He is better today. Alhamdoulillah. 

As I write this, I am in awe of Allah’s mercy. How one can make dua, and Allah is there for you. How one can be in sujood, asking Allah for his mercy, and He hears you. He hears your cries and knows what you want and need. I cried last night while I was praying. My hands came together to make dua, but I couldn’t speak. No sound came. Just the tears falling and the lump in my throat. My eyes were blurry, and all I wanted at that moment was Allah’s mercy. And when I was ready, all I could say was Ameen. 

Life has been moving. Day by day, I try my best to live. To worship. To make sure I am doing my best for my Akhira (hereafter). There are days I struggle, but with Allah’s mercy, it becomes easier. I struggled with someone, wondering if the person would ever leave. I convinced myself that this person would change and be better, but nothing changed. We were in a tangled mess for two years. We’d untangle and tangle again. And this was my awakening to wanting something so bad but not waiting on Allah’s timing. 

When it ended, something breathed into me. A relief, a sigh. For some time, I was mad at myself for staying and accepting something that was not mine. Allah’s mercy helped me realize this tangled mess wasn’t mine. 

The healing first came from my time with my sisters. They didn’t even realize how much love they poured over me for the sake of Allah. They embraced me with so much warmth. May Allah reward them (Ameen). We attended lectures about the importance of establishing a relationship with the Quran. We ate together, laughed, and shared joy. We celebrated each other. 

Then, my heart continued to soften as a school counselor, working with students and their families, helping as best as I could. Allah’s mercy continued. 

I’ve been writing for two years but have never found myself posting. In those two years, I learned more about myself as a Muslim woman, daughter, sister, and friend. I’ve sat with my grief, pondered, and wondered when it would go away. Grieving my losses and knowing that it would never go away. Instead, grief comes and goes like the seasons and never disappears. Grief can be shocking sometimes, you wake up with the anxiety and struggle to breathe. I drowned alone, silently, but with Allah’s mercy, I was able to breathe again. I was able to accept grief and make it my friend.

I sometimes miss my early twenties. I miss the days when I didn’t think much about anything. I miss my obliviousness, never having a clue of what was really happening. I miss my innocence about the world. But now, I am grateful for this new awareness and knowledge. I am grateful to be a 28-year-old woman with so much love to give, a woman who suffers from elder-sister syndrome. 

I’ve accepted Allah’s Qadr. Every day I am on this earth is a new beginning—a day of hope and fear, gratitude and reflection, sharing love and kindness, and being present. 

Here’s to another day of being present. May Allah forgive us, protect us, and be pleased with us. Allahuma Ameen.