When You Lose The People You Care About

Muslima 2

Jul 4

Grief has a way of changing you. It doesn’t always come with loud sobs or dramatic moments. Sometimes, it’s quiet, a heavy silence, or an ache you carry while folding laundry, teaching your kids, or working on your computer. You keep moving, but something inside you has shifted because someone you cared about is no longer in this dunya.

I’ve lost all four of my grandparents, both my parents, my youngest brother, many uncles, a close aunt and cousin, and recently, a good friend who was my age. Each loss felt like a part of me left with them, but each one felt different. I truly feel that when you lose a parent, you lose a piece of your past. When you lose a sibling, you lose a piece of your childhood. When you lose a spouse, you lose a piece of your present. When you lose a child, you lose a piece of your future. And when you lose extended family or friends, you lose a piece of your reality.

Even though I have experienced many painful losses, I cannot imagine the heartache of losing a spouse or a child. May Allah SWT grant shifa for those who have, as I think it must be the toughest losses to bear. When it comes to losing a friend, it brings a sting in the ordinary moments. The “Are you free to talk?” messages that won’t come. The phone calls and meet-ups you instinctively want to make but can’t. The list of goals you used to update together, and now you won’t.

Every Relationship Leaves Its Own Imprint

Each person who passes takes a version of you with them—the version who laughed with them, grew with them, and made plans with them. That version doesn’t exist anymore, but the memory of it pushes you forward. It makes you pause and re-evaluate your life, your time, and your priorities. You start to think more seriously about how you spend your hours and who you spend them with. You wonder if you’re doing enough to leave behind your own legacy of goodness.

A Reminder After Losing a Friend

A few months ago, I lost my friend, Farhat Amin, whom I had known for several years, and we had become work buddies. While we lived in different countries, we kept in touch often over the phone and would motivate one another to write our books. Her passing struck me deeply. Besides missing her, I was reminded of how fragile time is and how suddenly it can slip away. She often quoted Surah Al-Asr, and it echoes in my mind whenever I think about her:

“By Time. Verily, mankind is in loss. Except those who believe and do righteous deeds, and encourage one another to truth, and encourage one another to patience.” (Surah Al-Asr)

This ayah sums up the truth of life: time is fleeting, and every moment matters.

Lessons From Facing Loss

One of the greatest lessons grief teaches is that it is part of our purification process. When Allah SWT takes someone from us, the pain is not random. It softens the heart, humbles the soul, and reminds us of our akhirah. Without moments of loss, many of us would continue racing through life as if it were endless. But grief forces us to stop. It compels us to remember that this world is temporary and our final destination is with Allah SWT.

Another reminder is that you can be strong and still feel pain. We sometimes pressure ourselves to “move on” quickly, thinking that patience means suppressing all emotion. But true sabr is not the absence of tears; it is the choice to hold on to faith and trust in Allah even when the heart aches. The Prophet SAW himself wept when his loved ones passed away, showing us that tears and patience can exist together.

Loss also highlights that every relationship has value. We often assume only the closest bonds deserve to be grieved, but even casual friendships, neighbors, or teachers leave marks on our hearts. The people Allah SWT places in our lives, whether for a season or a lifetime, are there for a reason. Their absence still leaves behind a gap, and their presence still leaves behind a lesson.

Grief teaches us about legacy as well. It is easy in today’s world to measure a person’s worth by numbers: followers, likes, and recognition. But when someone passes, none of that matters. What truly endures is the goodness they spread, the hearts they uplifted, the duas they inspired, and the faith they left behind in others. This is what the Prophet SAW meant when he said that after death, our deeds end except for three: ongoing charity, knowledge that benefits, and righteous children who pray for us is our legacy.

"When a man dies, his deeds come to an end except for three things: Sadaqah Jariyah (ceaseless charity); a knowledge which is beneficial, or a virtuous descendant who prays for him (for the deceased)." (Muslim)

My friend Farhat Amin was an author and wrote wonderful books for Muslims. See them here.

Finally, grief makes you realize just how precious time is. Every death is a wake-up call to forgive sooner, love deeper, and act on the good you’ve been postponing. The project you keep delaying, the kind words you hesitate to say, and the phone call you keep putting off all matter. Time is a gift, but it is not guaranteed. The wise person is the one who uses it for goodness before it slips away.

Reflecting on Our Own Mortality

Whether it’s a parent, a sibling, a spouse, or a friend, every loss is an invitation from Allah SWT to reflect. Not just on death itself, but on life. Thoughts like, “How are we living it? How do we show up for others? How do we prepare for the day when our names are the ones announced?”

It’s okay to feel sad and to cry. It’s okay to take time to pause. But it’s also important to keep going, as every death is a reminder, not of despair, but of our purpose.

If you’ve recently lost someone, I pray Allah SWT heals your heart. I pray your grief becomes a means of nearness to Him. And I pray you find strength in knowing that nothing in this life is truly lost, just temporarily separated until we meet again.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un — to Allah we belong, and to Him we return.

TIP THE AUTHOR

Salaam, I’m Zakeeya

I believe our homes are meant to be havens of sakina—places where families feel safe, nurtured, and loved. Since 2011, I’ve been dedicated to helping Muslim women find tranquility in their roles, care for themselves with dignity, and achieve inner peace. Drawing on my years of experience as a wife, mother, and mentor, I share tools and guidance to help you face life’s challenges with more gratitude and mindfulness. Here, you’ll find Muslima, wifehood, motherhood, and lifestyle insights to make your journey as a woman more fulfilling, inshallah. Read more about me here.