Final; On Jannah…

A friend once asked me what motivates me to do better. I thought about it for a moment and while sometimes it’s the fear of Jahannam, it’s mostly the longing for Jannah. The thought of eternal peace, of stepping into a realm where pain, sorrow and exhaustion cease to exist. How could I not yearn for that?

This world is fleeting, no matter how much we try to hold onto it. The moments that once seemed endless, the nights of childhood spent in laughter, the milestones we once counted down to, the seasons we eagerly awaited, have all passed. Where did they go? I think about how quickly Ramadan has gone by. It feels like just yesterday we were welcoming it, setting intentions, hoping to make the most of it, and now we’re here, at the 23rd night, watching it slip through our fingers like sand. That is how this dunya is.

We spend months anticipating events, a graduation, a wedding, the birth of a child. We plan, we dream, we count down. And then, in an instant, it comes and goes, leaving only memories behind. And if this is the nature of dunya, if it is destined to pass no matter how much we cling to it, isn’t it better to endure a little longer? To remain steadfast and hold onto our faith? Because what is temporary compared to what is forever?

Wouldn’t It Have Been Better?

I often think of the Prophet ﷺ standing over the defeated leaders of Quraysh after the Battle of Badr, his voice filled with sorrow as he said, “Wouldn’t it have been better for you if you had believed?” These men had power, wealth and status. They had everything this world could offer them. But when death came, it stripped them of it all. They left behind their gold, their homes, their families, everything they once fought for, only to awaken to the realization that none of it mattered anymore.

That question haunts me: Wouldn’t it have been better?

Whenever I’m faced with hardship, whenever life tests me in ways I never expected, I try to remind myself (even though I fail to sometimes), wouldn’t it be better to endure? To hold on a little longer? What is a few years of struggle compared to an eternity of bliss?

No Pain? No Suffering?

I try to picture it, and my eyes well up. What do you mean no pain? No exhaustion? No heartbreak? No grief? No more waking up with a heavy heart, no more aching bodies, no more fear of losing the people we love.

The Prophet ﷺ said, “A caller will call out: ‘Indeed, for you is life everlasting. You will never die. For you is health everlasting. You will never fall ill. For you is youth everlasting. You will never grow old. For you is bliss everlasting. You will never despair.’”

Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2387

I close my eyes and try to imagine the moment I step into Jannah. The first breath I take, when the weight of dunya is finally lifted from my shoulders. The feeling of relief washing over me, the overwhelming peace. The moment I hear the angels say,

“Peace be upon you. You have done well. So enter it forever.” (39:73)

Forever. Tears.

The thought alone makes me teary-eyed. Jannah is forever. There is no good moment that will slip away, no happiness that will fade. Every joy will last. Every moment will be more beautiful than the last.

What Do I Want to Do in Jannah?

I want to run barefoot through the gardens, feeling the soft, cool grass beneath my feet. I want to drink from the rivers of milk and honey, to sit by the fountains of Salsabeel and watch the water sparkle under an eternal sun.

I want to eat from the fruits of Jannah, to pluck pomegranates the size of my head, to bite into dates sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted. I want to sit under the shade of trees whose branches lower themselves so I can take whatever I desire.

I want to visit the Prophet ﷺ. I want to sit with him, to listen to him speak, to tell him how much I longed for this moment. I want to meet Khadijah, to ask her about her life, to tell her how much I admired her strength. I want to walk through the gardens with Maryam, to hold her hand and ask her about the moment she met Jibril.

And then, I want to go home, to my palace, the one I prayed for, the one I built with every dhikr I ever made. I want to open its doors and step inside, knowing that this is mine, that this will never be taken away from me.

I want to sit with my family, my brother, to laugh with them, with him, knowing there will be no more goodbyes. No more worrying about losing them. No more grief, no more heartbreak. Just peace. Just eternity. Tears again.

Just a Little Longer

So yes, sometimes it’s hard. Life isn’t always kind. There are days when it feels unbearable, when patience feels like an impossible task. But I remind myself to hold on, just a little longer Amina. Just a little longer and it won’t matter. What is a few years of hardship compared to an eternity of joy?

I think of how quickly dunya is passing, how nothing stays. And I remind myself that every struggle, every sacrifice, every tear shed for the sake of Allah is bringing me closer to that first step into Jannah.

Because Jannah is worth it.

And I can’t wait to go home.

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I’m afraid this might be my last newsletter, as I have shared so much of myself over the past few months. I pray that in some way, my words have resonated with you. And if you ever find yourself thinking of me, please make du’a for me.

May Allah make us of those whose faces shine bright on the Day of Judgment, whose scales are heavy with good deeds, whose names are called with honor among the righteous. May our final moments in dunya be our best, and let the moment we meet You be the most beautiful of all. May He reunite us in the highest ranks of Jannah, where no pain, no sorrow and no separation exists.

Ameen.