“Muhammad is only a messenger. Messengers have passed away before him. So, if he dies or is killed, will you turn back on your heels? Whoever turns back on his heels will not harm Allah in anything. And Allah will reward those who are grateful.”
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān, Āyah 144
“No self can die except by Allah’s permission, at an appointed term. Whoever desires the reward of this world, We give him from it; and whoever desires the reward of the Hereafter, We give him from it. And We will reward those who are grateful.”
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān, Āyah 145
Keyword Focus
أَفَإِن مَّاتَ أَوْ قُتِلَ انقَلَبْتُمْ عَلَىٰ أَعْقَابِكُمْ – “So, if he dies or is killed, will you turn back on your heels?”
انقَلَبْتُمْ عَلَىٰ أَعْقَابِكُمْ (In-qalaab-tum ʿalā aʿ-qā-bi-kum) — to turn back on your heels.
For me, this became more than a description of physically turning around. It made me reflect on what happens to my direction when my husband, someone I deeply love, is no longer beside me.
كِتَابًا مُّؤَجَّلًا (ki-TAA-ban mu-ʾAJ-ja-lan) – Something written with an appointed term—not simply something “delayed,” but something assigned a definite time and term.
This understanding made me look differently at the life my husband was given.
What I Learned
(My personal experience. Why did these āyahs matter at that moment?)
It has been two years since my husband passed away, yet grief and sadness still have a hold on me. I am still learning how to carry myself without being pulled into the heaviness of that loss.
At the same time, I have begun encountering different āyahs that seem to meet me where I am. The more I read the Qur’an, the more I recognize that an āyah, a word, or several āyahs can speak directly to something happening within me, teaching me something I need to see.
I was familiar with Āyah 144, but I had never realized how deeply it could speak to my own life. A few weeks ago, while listening to the Qur’an, I heard it again:
أَفَإِن مَّاتَ أَوْ قُتِلَ انقَلَبْتُمْ عَلَىٰ أَعْقَابِكُمْ
“So, if he dies or is killed, will you turn back on your heels?”
The first time I heard it, my heart was affected. When I heard it again, it affected me even more. It felt almost like someone had shaken me and said, Wake up. What are you doing?
I began asking myself: Am I allowing my grief to turn me around? Am I allowing the loss of my husband to affect my direction and my commitment to Allah?
Then Āyah 145 brought another piece into place for me:
كِتَابًا مُّؤَجَّلًا
Something written with an appointed term.
I had come across this word many times in the Qur’an, but I had not stopped to consider its depth. As I reflected on it, I began looking back over my husband’s life.
In 2013, my husband suffered an aortic dissection, type A—a life-threatening event that could have ended his life immediately. Yet he received emergency surgery and lived for another twelve years.
I found myself thinking: Allah allowed him another twelve years.
Those twelve years were a gift. They were not something I was entitled to. They were twelve additional years of life that I now see as a mercy I needed to recognize and be grateful for.
My husband himself was grateful for every day he was given. He often told me and others that he was living on “borrowed time.”
I used to laugh when he said it.
Now, I understand how real those words were.
These āyahs brought me to a place where I had to slow down, look back over my life, and recognize how quickly I had forgotten Allah’s mercy and how much I had to be grateful for.
How It Helped Me
(Life Connection. Practical Grounding)
My husband died. Did I need to turn back on my heels—or continue my journey?
The grief is real. It is hard. It is a shadow that still follows me.
But Allah is still here.
My husband’s life was full. He was a man who sought Allah, built a meaningful career, gave generously, cared deeply for his family, and made an impact on the people around him. He passed away quite young, in his late fifties, shortly after an early retirement. Yet he had accomplished much and touched many lives.
His book in this life is closed.
Mine is still open.
My journey is still going, and I have not reached its end.
We were married for 29 years. We grew up together, influenced one another, and stood beside each other through good times and difficult ones. He had a profound impact on my life. I learned much from him, and I continue to honor his life by carrying forward the wisdom and values I received from our years together.
But these āyahs helped me see that honoring his life does not mean stopping my own.
I need to continue.
I need to add my own chapter.
I need to be steady, patient, thoughtful, and willing to think independently. I still have responsibilities toward myself and toward others. I still have work to do in this life.
With Allah’s guidance and reliance upon Him, I want to continue forward on a straight path and fulfill the responsibilities that remain before me.
And I hold hope for what may come after this life. The Qur’an gives me beautiful images of people reunited, sitting together and conversing, and of families being gathered. I do not know how Allah will bring about what is beyond this life, but I hold onto the hope that continuing faithfully on my path may one day lead me to a reunion with those I love.
For now, my responsibility is here.
His journey ended. Mine continues.
Closing Reflection
(Simple and Honest)
The loss is real.
The pain is real.
And it is not going anywhere.
But I should not let the loss of my husband cause me to lose the principle.
The truth and my responsibility before Allah should not change.
His life was a gift.
His time was a gift.
And my time is a gift too.
One day at a time.
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