TODAY - The 7th of September 2025, I mark another year of life. Birthdays are often associated with celebration, joy, and gratitude, but this year feels profoundly different. As I step into the age of fifty-one, my heart is filled with emotions that words can hardly capture. This day reminds me not only of how far I have journeyed in life but also of the fragile reality that time is ticking away, carrying me gently yet steadily toward my final destination.
Crossing the threshold of fifty has been both humbling and awakening. Life feels heavier with memories, responsibilities, and lessons learned. I have faced trials that tested my strength, moments of pain that silenced me, and uncertainties that left me in deep reflection. It is not easy to explain the depth of what I carry within. Yet, amidst the challenges, I have also been blessed with the presence of my family, my faith, and the opportunities Allah has granted me to continue walking upon this earth.
At this stage of life, I am constantly reminded that my existence is drawing closer to its end. Such a thought does not terrify me, but it makes me reflective. Every passing year feels like a borrowed gift, an extension from Allah that I must use wisely before the time of return arrives. I often wonder how many more birthdays I will see, how many more moments I will share with my loved ones. The uncertainty of life makes me value each breath, each prayer, and each connection with those who matter most.
On this special day, my greatest wish is not for wealth, luxury, or recognition. My heart longs for simplicity, for faith, and for closeness to Allah. Above all, I dream of performing Umrah with my family. To guide them through the sacred streets of Makkah and Madinah, to let them feel the serenity of the Kaabah, and to bow together in prayer within those holy lands—this would be the most beautiful gift of my life. I hope that Allah grants me the strength, health, and means to fulfill this dream before my journey in this world comes to an end.
Yet, my deepest hope lies beyond even this. I pray that when my time comes, Allah allows my soul to return to Him in the holy land of Makkah or Madinah. The thought of ending my final breath in those sacred places brings comfort to my heart. It is not a desire born of despair, but of longing for closeness to Allah and His Messenger. To rest eternally where countless believers have prayed, cried, and sought forgiveness would be an honor beyond measure. I make this dua sincerely, leaving it in the hands of Allah, the Most Merciful, who knows the secrets of my heart.
As I grow older, my concern is not only for myself but also for my family. They are the core of my existence, the ones who carry my love, my prayers, and my legacy. I ask Allah to protect them always, to grant them health, strength, and guidance. I want them to live with dignity, kindness, and faith, no matter what trials they may face after my departure. For my children, I pray that they achieve their dreams, but more importantly, that they remain steadfast in their iman and become people of compassion. For my spouse, I pray for patience, strength, and joy, even in moments when life feels heavy. And for my wider family, I wish for unity, forgiveness, and the courage to support one another through the ups and downs of life.
As I reflect on today, I realize that the greatest gift I can leave behind is not material wealth, but love, values, and faith. I want my family and others who have crossed paths with me to remember me as someone who tried to give more than he received, who sought forgiveness when he failed, and who always prayed for the wellbeing of others. I do not claim perfection, for my flaws are many, but I hope that my intentions will outweigh my shortcomings in the sight of Allah.
The clock continues to tick, reminding me that every moment counts. Each prayer said, each kind word spoken, each act of charity done, may become the light that guides me when I stand before Allah. My birthday today is not just a celebration of life but also a reminder of death. And in this reminder, I find clarity: that what truly matters is not how long I live, but how I use the time that remains.
So, as I blow no candles and cut no cake, I instead raise my hands in dua. I thank Allah for fifty-one years of life, for every joy and hardship, for every blessing and trial. I ask for forgiveness for my mistakes, for guidance in the days ahead, and for strength to continue walking with faith. I pray for my family, my students, my community, and for all Muslims across the world. May Allah accept our prayers and grant us peace in this life and the next.
Today, I write with a heart that is both heavy and hopeful. Heavy with the awareness of mortality, yet hopeful in the mercy of Allah. My birthday reminds me that life is short, but it is also a chance to leave behind something meaningful. May the rest of my days, however many they may be, be filled with prayers, kindness, and preparation for the eternal journey. And when my time comes, may Allah bless my last breath with His forgiveness and His light, perhaps even in the holy lands of Makkah or Madinah. Until then, I will keep praying, loving, and walking this path with gratitude.
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