This time has certainly been a trying one for our family.  On Monday, September 8th, 2008, corresponding to the 8th day of the holy month of Ramadan in 1429 AH, Allah took the soul of my brother Qaadir Siddeeq after Qaadir courageously battled a cancer that originated in his gall bladder.  The next day our family, as they were preparing to attend Qaadir’s janazah, learned of the passing of the respected Imam Warith Deen Mohammed, the husband of our sister Khadijah Siddeeq who had selflessly dedicated that week to being by the side of her brother Qaadir and who was at that moment on her way to her brother’s janazah.

Innaa lillaahi wa innaa ilayhi raaji’oon.  ”Surely, we belong to Allah, and surely, unto Him will we all return.”  These are the words that escaped my lips as I learned of this news, and as tears spilled from my eyes.  Words cannot describe the feeling one has upon receiving such news.  So much rushes through one’s mind–and heart.  For me, I thought, Is this real?  And I even asked more than once, Are you sure?  Are they really gone?  As reality settled, I thought of the words that I had recited… “Surely, we belong to Allah, and surely, unto Him will we all return.”  It took a moment, but I realized, Yes, they are gone….as you will be, too, one day.

This time has become, for me and my family, a time of reflection, a time of thanking Allah, and a time of patience.  The passing of my brother and brother-in-law respectively in the Month of Mercy has made me reflect on the brevity of life, and my time on this earth thus far.  It too has inspired me to reflect on my blessings and the blessings of my family, most specifically the blessing we have in the two people from whom we are drawing so much of our strength–our parents Muhammad and Fareedah Siddeeq.

When I was growing up, my parents, each day after Fajr prayer, would sit down with all of us before we left for school or work and have a class.  This class would sometimes last over an hour, and sometimes it would last as little as fifteen minutes.  But in each class, the goal was one:  to remind us of Allah and our purpose in this world.  One of the moments that resonate in my mind was when my father said to us, referencing the Qur’anic lesson, “Do you think you’ll be left alone in saying you believe?”  His voice rose and he emphasized the words, “Do you think you’ll be left alone in saying you believe when others before you fought, died, and suffered in Allah’s cause?  They were tested so severely,” my father said, his voice reverberating throughout the living room, “that even the Messenger among them asked, ‘When will the victory of Allah come?’” 

A couple of days after my brother passed, I called my mother to ask how she was doing, and she said, “I’m comforted.”  She then told me that early Monday morning, she had asked my father, “When will the victory come?”  Only minutes later, she learned of the passing of her son Qaadir.  And in her words I knew her message.  This is the victory.

My most vivid memories of my parents are all like this:  that of strength and pointing us to the right perspective–that of Allah’s pleasure, despite that which pains us in our lives.  Even as my father entered the hospital room after his son departed, the first words I heard him say were, “Allaahu’akbar!” proclaiming the Greatness of His Creator, even as his heart, surely, was aching at the loss of his son.  The day before Qaadir himself passed, Qaadir remarked to his siblings and to the hospital staff, “For my Dad, Islam comes first, before anything else.”  And then Qaadir said, “For me, it’s the same thing…I am Muslim–and that’s the most important thing.”

If I were to summarize in two words our upbringing in the Siddeeq home, it would be this:  Living Love.

Allah says in the Qu’ran “Say (O Muhammad, to the people): ‘If you love Allah, follow me. Allah will love you and forgive your sins…”   This is what I learned as a young Siddeeq:  ”If you love Allah, then live as a Muslim–no matter what happens in the world around you.”

In our home,  Living Love was sitting down with my sister after an argument and finding a verse in the Qur’an to solve our dispute. 

Living Love was taking notes on whatever television or movie we watched to derive a lesson or to suggest a better way of handling matters than was presented on the screen. 

Living Love was receiving a weekly call from our parents while we were away at college and their saying, “Keep up your prayers, sugar.  Keep up your prayers.” 

Living Love was our parents not allowing us to use the pronouns he and she when complaining, but the pronouns I and we. 

Living Love was not allowing us to make a suggestion on what they should have done, but on what I should have done. 

Living Love was in stopping us mid-sentence if we were talking negatively about anyone–even someone who wronged us. 

Living Love was our parents telling us, You be the example, instead of waiting on others to. 

Living Love was our parents saying, Your very presence is da’wah.

Living Love was in opening our home, and everything in it, to someone in need, even if we were in need ourselves.

Living Love was turning our humble home into a local masjid, until the community could establish one in truth.

Living Love was making pancakes with Dad after Fajr.

Living Love was hearing Mom’s sewing machine all night as she made yet another dress for us…for Eid, for the party, for our wedding…or Just because.

Living Love was Dad inserting our names into a song, making us think that we actually had a list of each family member on the song sheet.

Living Love was in embracing us with a warm hug after each prayer.

Living Love was in proclaiming, “Allahu’akbar!” whenever we made an effort at doing good…even if we missed the mark.

Living Love was our parents’ taking the suffix in-law off of every addition to our family and treating them like one of their own.

Living Love was our parents’ saying yes to the marriage of their youngest daughter Khadijah to her Muslim brother-in-faith Imam Warith Deen Mohammed.  Because in our home, Islam, like love, was not a word.  It was a way of life–like the love in the life of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, our example.  Because, to my parents…

Living Love was…..living love.

 

Thank you, Mom and Dad for teaching us the meaning of Love.  Thank you for raising us upon the saying, “Whenever a Muslim endeavors to do anything, he seeks to perfect it.”

Thank you for…Living Love and perfecting that endeavor–for your children and ours.  May Allah bless you both.

We love you. 

May Allah grant you and us, and Qaadir and Imam Warith Deen Mohammed, the best in the Hereafter, where everyone will be with those whom they loved.

 

With Love,

Your Daughter,

Baiyinah Siddeeq