Today, I felt that quiet, heavy sadness that settles in the heart when you know something beautiful is coming to an end. Ramadan is leaving. And this year, it felt different.

It wasn’t just a month of fasting and worship. It was a month of returning. A month of sitting with the Qur’an, not just to recite it, but to live in it. To swim in its ocean of mercy, wisdom, healing, and guidance.

This Ramadan, I found myself searching. Searching for Allah through His Names. Page after page, ayah after ayah, I wasn’t just reading, I was looking for Him. And in a way I can’t fully put into words, it felt like a dialogue. Like Allah ﷻ was allowing me to know Him, introducing Himself to me through His words.

And now… it’s ending. And I can’t help but feel a heaviness in my heart. A sadness I didn’t quite expect. But even in that sadness, there was a gentle reminder that settled within me: It’s not over yet.

The 29th night is still here. Still an odd night. Still filled with barakah. Still holding the possibility of being that night. And so I caught myself. Instead of allowing the sadness to pull me back, I leaned forward. I gathered what was left of my energy, my focus, my heart and I tried to give just a little more.

A few more moments of dhikr. A little more Qur’an. A few more quiet du‘as whispered between me and Allah. Hoping…that maybe these moments, small as they may feel, would be the ones that elevate my Ramadan in the sight of Allah.

Because the Prophet ﷺ reminded us: “Verily, deeds are judged by their endings.” And Subhān’Allah, what a mercy that is. That it’s not about how we started. Not even about the dips along the way.

But that perhaps, it’s how we end that might carry the most weight. And so I found myself asking: How do I want to end this conversation I’ve been having with Allah all month? Because that’s what it felt like. A conversation. And I don’t want to walk away from it feeling distant again.

I don’t want the Qur’an to close and my heart to slowly close with it. I don’t want to forget this feeling. And maybe that’s where the Name Al-Wadūd settled in my heart today. The Most Loving. The One who loves His servants and allows them to love Him.

Because what I felt this Ramadan… it felt like love. To be drawn to His words. To find comfort in His remembrance. To long for more time with Him. That is not something we create on our own. That is something He places in our hearts out of His love.

And maybe the sadness I feel now is also a sign of that love. Because when you love something, you feel its absence before it even leaves. So perhaps this isn’t just the sadness of Ramadan ending. Perhaps it’s the heart recognizing something it doesn’t want to lose.

And so my du‘a became simple: Don’t let this be goodbye. Let this be a beginning.

Ya Wadūd, You are The Most Loving, the One who places love in the hearts of His servants. Do not take away the love for You that You allowed me to taste in this month. Do not let my heart return to distance after You brought it close.

Ya Rabb, allow me to carry this connection with the Qur’an beyond Ramadan. Let me continue this conversation with You long after this month has passed. Accept from me what I have done, overlook where I have fallen short, and make the ending of this Ramadan a means of elevation for me. 

And if this is a farewell, then let it be one that brings me closer to You not one that leaves me behind. Allahumma Amīn.

With Love,

Ibtisam