By Mohammed Ijaz ul Haq Kanth
As I sit down to write this tribute, a storm of emotions rises within me—grief that feels unbearable, gratitude that knows no bounds, and love that remains unshaken. The past few days have been a blur of sorrow and reflection as we bid farewell to a man who was not just our grandfather but the heart of our family, the foundation upon which our world was built. His presence was a gift, his wisdom a guiding force, and his love a shelter that protected us from life’s storms.
My dear LALA, Yesterday, when the house finally fell silent after the last of our guests had departed, I stepped into my room for the first time in days. The emptiness was suffocating. My eyes wandered across the room and fell upon the wall clock you had gifted me and In that moment, time itself seemed to pause. The familiar ticking, which once faded into the background of our conversations, now echoed in the silence, a painful reminder of what I had lost.
Memories came rushing back—the warmth of your voice, the wisdom in your words, the way your eyes crinkled with laughter, the gentle yet firm reprimands that shaped me into who I am today. I could almost hear you calling my name, as you so often did, with love, with patience, with a sincerity that only you possessed.
So, I began to write—not to mourn your departure, but to celebrate your life. Not to dwell on the pain of losing you, but to honor the love, the wisdom, and the unwavering faith that defined you. No words can truly capture the depth of your kindness, the weight of your absence, or the irreplaceable role you played in our lives. But if this tribute can be a small reflection of the love you gave us, then I hope it does justice to the extraordinary man that you were.
The Pillar of Our Family
Your presence in our family was more than just a blessing—it was a gift from Allah, a source of strength, love, and unwavering guidance. You were the anchor that kept us steady, the silent force that held us together, the foundation upon which we all stood. Without you, there would have been no center, no binding thread weaving us into one. Your love was limitless, your concern for each of us never wavered, no matter how far we were or how busy life became.
One of your most cherished habits was your daily ritual of calling each family member who lived away from home. No matter the distance, no matter how hectic life got, we always knew that at some point in the day, a call from you would come. A simple check-in, yet one filled with warmth, gentle advice, and an unspoken reminder that no matter where we were, we were never alone. Those conversations—once routine, once so easy to expect—now feel like treasures we didn’t know we were collecting, precious moments whose true worth we only understand in their absence.
Your absence is not just felt,it is lived in every quiet corner of the house, in every unspoken moment where your voice should have been. The familiar creak of your walking stick, once a sound that reassured us you had arrived home safely, is now an echo of what we have lost. The way you would call out to us before we left for work, asking if we had everything we needed, praying for our safety—those small, everyday moments have now become the memories we cling to. Even your scoldings, which we may not have fully understood then, now reveal themselves to be disguised blessings—lessons wrapped in love, subtle nudges toward becoming better versions of ourselves.
And perhaps, more than anything, I carry with me a regret—a heavy, aching regret—that I could not achieve something truly big while you were still here to witness it. You always believed in me, always encouraged me, always longed for the day I would rise to my full potential. I know how much it meant to you, how much you wanted to see me accomplish something significant. It pains me deeply that I couldn’t fulfill that wish in your lifetime, that you didn’t get to see me become the person you always believed I could be.
But I promise you, Lala, your dreams for me will not go in vain. I will strive with all my heart, not just for myself, but for you—for the man who saw my worth before I ever did, for the man whose faith in me never wavered. I will try my best to make you proud, to walk the path you wished for me, to carry forward the legacy of honor, integrity, and strength that you left behind.
And yet, amid the pain of regret, there is one solace I hold close to my heart—that you witnessed my Nikah, a moment that mattered deeply to both of us. You were there, present with your wisdom and prayers, and you wrote the Nikah papers with your own hands. That memory, that blessing, is one I will cherish forever. It gives me peace to know that, in at least that moment, I fulfilled a part of my dream—to make you proud, to have you by my side in one of the most significant chapters of my life.
Even as you are no longer with us in this world, your presence remains, woven into our souls, etched into our lives. You were, and will always be, the pillar of our family.
A Heart Overflowing with Love
Your love for children was one of the purest, most beautiful expressions of your kindness—a love so boundless, so tender, that it could be felt in the smallest of gestures. You delighted in their innocence, their laughter, their tiny hands reaching out for you. The joy in your eyes when they surrounded you, the way your face would light up when they ran to you with open arms—it was as if, in those moments, the weight of the world lifted, and only love remained.
You would often ask them to kiss your face, holding them close, savoring the warmth of their affection. And when they did, the happiness that spread across your face was uncontainable. You cherished those fleeting moments, capturing them in videos, watching them over and over again—not just to relive them but to hold onto the magic of their innocence, the purity of their love.
Whenever you traveled, no child in the family was ever forgotten. You would carefully choose gifts for each of your sons’ and daughters’ children, ensuring that every little one had something to unwrap with joy. It was never about the material value—no, it was about the love behind it.
Each gift was a reflection of your thoughtfulness, a silent yet powerful reminder that they were cherished, that in your heart, no one was ever left out.
But more than anything, you taught us that love is found in the simplest, most unassuming moments. It is in the warmth of a shared laugh, in the silent understanding of a knowing glance, in the way your hands would rest gently on our heads in silent prayer. You reminded us, without ever needing to say it, to embrace life with wonder, to find joy in the moments most people overlook, to hold on to the small, beautiful fragments of everyday life—because in the end, those are what truly matter.
Your love was not loud, nor demanding—it was steady, unwavering, ever-present. And though you are no longer here to gather the children in your arms, to ask for kisses with that same playful smile, we will carry your love forward. We will pass it down, just as you did, ensuring that the warmth you gave us never fades, but instead, grows and lives on in the generations to come.
A Mind That Never Stopped Learning
Your thirst for knowledge was insatiable, your curiosity boundless. Despite the generational gap, you never shied away from change—you embraced it with open arms, eager to understand the world as it evolved. While many found comfort in old ways, you found excitement in discovering the new. You were fascinated by modern technology, not just as an observer but as a participant, always eager to learn, always asking questions, always striving to understand the advancements that others of your age might have dismissed as too complex.
But your intelligence wasn’t just theoretical—it was deeply practical. You had an uncanny knack for electronic gadgets, a natural gift for fixing and understanding things that others might have called an expert for. Whether it was the geyser in winter, the transformer during a power fluctuation, an inverter that refused to work, or an LED light flickering out of place—before anyone could call for help, you would roll up your sleeves and get to work. There was a quiet satisfaction on your face when you solved a problem, a sense of fulfillment in restoring something to order. You never saw it as a chore but as a challenge, a puzzle to be solved with patience and skill.
Yet, your wisdom extended far beyond gadgets and wires. You carried a deep sense of responsibility in everything you did. You constantly reminded us of the importance of conservation—not out of frugality, but out of mindfulness. You would gently remind us to turn off lights and fans when leaving a room, not because electricity was expensive, but because wastefulness had no place in a disciplined life. These were not just words; they were values you lived by, lessons woven into the fabric of your everyday actions.
You taught us, not through lectures, but through example. You showed us that life is meant to be lived with awareness, that nothing should be taken for granted, and that true intelligence is not just in learning but in applying knowledge with wisdom and responsibility. You lived with intention, with discipline, with an innate understanding that every little act—no matter how small—carried meaning and purpose.
And now, as we navigate life without you, we realize that your lessons were never just about fixing broken things. They were about self-reliance, about patience, about embracing change with courage and curiosity. You didn’t just teach us how to repair a device—you taught us how to approach life itself, with open minds, steady hands, and the determination to always keep learning.
A Life Rooted in Faith
Above all, you were a man of faith—a man whose devotion was unwavering, whose belief was unshakable. Your commitment to Salah, your reverence for the Quran, and your deep connection to your Deen were not just practices but the very fabric of your existence. Faith was not something you merely followed; it was something you lived, something that shaped every thought, every action, every moment of your life.
You attended every prayer in the congregation with unmatched dedication, never allowing worldly distractions to come between you and your Lord. Every Deeni Majlis, every gathering of knowledge, held deep significance for you—not just as a seeker but as someone who carried the responsibility of passing it on. You recited the Quran with a sincerity so profound that it had the power to move hearts, your voice carrying the weight of devotion, the rhythm of a soul truly connected to its Creator.
Your love for Umrah was extraordinary. It was more than a journey for you—it was a calling, a longing, a spiritual revival. You cherished every moment in the holy lands, meticulously documenting each trip, not just through images but through the stories and reflections you shared upon your return. You brought back more than dates and Zamzam; you returned with lessons, with wisdom, with a renewed sense of purpose that you instilled in all of us. Ramadan held an even deeper meaning for you, and you ensured that your presence in Makkah and Madinah during this blessed month became a part of your life’s rhythm, your way of seeking closeness to Allah in the most sacred of times and places.
Your love for Islamic scholars was exemplary. You held them in the highest regard, learning from them, supporting them, and ensuring their words reached those around you. You made sure to fulfill every obligation Allah had entrusted you with—giving Zakat and Ushr not as mere duties but as acts of gratitude, as a means of purifying your wealth and heart. You understood that true richness was not in possessions but in giving, in serving, in uplifting those in need.
Even in your daily routine, faith was your constant companion. Whether driving or preparing to sleep, you would immerse yourself in the recitation of the Quran, in the words of Islamic scholars, in the lectures that deepened your understanding of Deen. Your soul found comfort in the remembrance of Allah, and you made sure that your heart never strayed from it.
And even in your final moments, as your body weakened, your spirit remained strong. Before you went unconscious, your lips were still engaged in Zikr, your fingers counting on your hands as if holding onto the remembrance of Allah with every last ounce of strength you had. It was as though your soul was preparing itself for its ultimate journey, whispering the words of devotion that had been the foundation of your entire life.
Faith was your anchor, your guiding force. And through you, we learned that true success lies not in material wealth, not in fleeting achievements, but in the richness of the soul, in the sincerity of one’s devotion, in the purity of one’s heart. You left this world as you lived in it—with faith on your lips, with Allah in your heart, with a legacy of love and righteousness that will remain long after you are gone.
A Final Goodbye, Until We Meet Again
You lived with grace, and you left this world with dignity. The immense gathering at your funeral was a testament to the life you led, to the countless hearts you touched, and to the deep love and respect people had for you. Each tear shed, each prayer whispered, each heavy-hearted embrace shared in your absence spoke volumes of the impact you had on this world.
But this is not truly goodbye. It cannot be. Death may have separated us in this life, but our bond remains unbroken, transcending time and space. It does not feel like you have left this world; it feels as though you have embarked on another journey, much like the ones you often took for Umrah—only this time, you are on the most sacred of all journeys, returning to the One you devoted your entire life to.
Our hearts ache, our souls tremble, and our chests feel heavy with grief, longing for one more conversation, one more glance, one more moment in your presence. Yet, our Shariah reminds us to be patient, to surrender to the will of Allah, and to place our trust in His divine wisdom. We find solace in the promise of reunion, in the certainty that this separation is temporary, that beyond this fleeting world, in a realm untouched by sorrow, where love is eternal, we will be together again.
Until that day, we will carry you with us—in our prayers, in our choices, in the way we treat others, and in the way we live. Your legacy will continue in the kindness we show, in the faith we uphold, and in the lessons you left behind.
May Allah grant you the highest ranks in Jannah, reunite us in gardens of everlasting peace, and allow us to honor your memory by walking the path you paved for us.
Ameen.
A Message to My Siblings and Cousins: His Legacy Lives Through Us
My dear brothers, sisters, and cousins, if we truly love our grandfather, if we truly wish to honor his memory, then our grief alone is not enough. He did not just leave us memories; he left us a roadmap—a way of life that he wanted us to carry forward.
His greatest wish for us was not just wealth, nor mere status, nor the fleeting successes of this world. His wish was simple, yet profound—to remain steadfast in our faith, to uphold the values he cherished, to be honest, kind, and compassionate human beings, to pray salah with sincerity, to remember Allah in our hearts and actions, and to always stand for what is right.
Let us not allow time to dull the impact of his teachings. Let us not let our lives drift away from the principles he lived and breathed. When we speak, let it be with truth. When we act, let it be with sincerity. When we serve others, let it be with selflessness. When we remember Allah, let it be with the same devotion he carried until his last breath.
If we truly want to keep him alive, we must embody what he stood for. Let his love for us reflect in the love we show one another. Let his prayers for our success not be in vain. Let us live in a way that makes him proud, that earns us the kind of place in Jannah where, when we meet again, he will smile at us and say, “You honored me by the way you lived.”
May Allah give us the strength to uphold his legacy, to live with faith, to serve with kindness, and to remain united as a family—just as he always wished for us.
Let us not forget. Let us live in a way that makes him proud.
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