30 for 30: Taraweeh Reflections Day 28
Today, the weight of mortality is weighing heavy on me. For the first time, I participated in the sacred ritual of preparing a body for Janazah. Allah chose me to wash a fellow African brother, assisting in his Ghusl and draping him in the Kaffan (The last outfit) – it was a profoundly humbling and difficult experience. His large frame, similar to my own, lay immobile, a reminder of our vulnerability and ultimate dependence on Allah's mercy.
With each gentle movement, a sense of responsibility hit me as we cleaned him from head to toe. Chosen by Allah to care for him in this act of service, particularly the washing of his feet, felt like a sacred duty. I made sure the water reached between his toes; I poured love and respect into my every move. I couldn't help but see a reflection of my mortality. The brother, once as alive and vibrant as myself, now completely surrendered to the divine decree. The reality is that no matter our strength, wealth, or status, we are all vulnerable in the face of death.
The drive to the masjid for his janazah left me with so many emotions. One particularly was thoughts of my father, who returned to his Creator a year after my birth. I never really met my dad for real; I don't have memories of him or anything, so at this moment, I was thinking about the details of his passing in the village back home – who performed his ghusl, did he receive the same gentle care we tried to give this brother today? Like I don't even know where my dad was buried. Allah knows best. Sitting in that car with my thoughts flying off the windshield, I prayed that both my father and the brother we laid to rest today found peace and Allah's eternal grace.
This Dunya is wild yo, the haste with which people dispersed after the janazah prayer was so telling. I was amazed about how quickly the departed faded from the collective memory. People rushed to their cars, homes, and workplaces, continuing on their days; it was so humbling. We spend our lives trying to impress and please individuals who will not even give us minutes after we're gone.
Today, I was reminded of the profound truth that in serving others, even in death, we find a deeper understanding of life. It's in these acts of selflessness and care that we truly embody the values of empathy, compassion, and humility that Islam holds dear.
As Ramadan draws to a close, this experience has imprinted a lasting lesson in my heart: to live with purpose, to cherish every moment, and to treat every individual, in life and in death, with the utmost respect and dignity. May Allah grant peace to the departed, comfort to those they leave behind, and guide us all to live in a way that honors the temporary nature of our worldly existence. Ameen. A question for you: Do you know who will wash your body?
