How do I say goodbye?

A personal reflection on loss, grief, letting go, and growth.

Aug 25, 2024

a sign that says see you later hanging from a door — Photo by Junseong Lee on Unsplash

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Disclaimer:

The content of this newsletter is intended for informational and spiritual reflection purposes only. It reflects personal experiences and interpretations aligned with Islamic teachings. It is not intended to provide professional counseling or mental health advice. If you are struggling with grief or emotional distress, please seek support from a qualified professional or a trusted religious advisor. The views expressed here are personal and may not necessarily reflect the opinions of all readers.

How I do I say goodbye?

I recently heard the lyrics to the hit song by Dean Lewis, How Do I Say Goodbye? Although I don't actively listen to music due to my adherence to Islamic teachings, which regard music as impermissible, I find it nearly impossible to avoid. It’s everywhere—shops, restaurants, supermarkets, and even metro stations. Despite my usual indifference, these particular lyrics captured my attention:

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So how do I say goodbye  

To someone who's been with me for my whole damn life?  

You gave me my name and the color of your eyes  

I see your face when I look at mine  

So how do I, how do I, how do I say goodbye?

This song triggered a question within me: How do I say goodbye? Reflecting on this brought a wave of memories and emotions crashing over me, much like the feeling of being buried under a collapsed building—heavy, constraining, and painful. Yet, amidst the weight of these emotions, there is always a flicker of light, a glimmer of hope that offers a path to healing.

The Goodbyes I've Faced

Over the years, I’ve had to say goodbye to many loved ones, each loss leaving a distinct mark on my heart. I’ve said goodbye to:

My favorite uncle , who passed away from AIDS. At just 15, I knew when I said goodbye to him before traveling abroad that it would be the last time I would see him alive. And it was!

My mother, who died due to medical malpractice. Her death was investigated as a homicide, but no one was ever held accountable.

My cousin Nigel, my favorite uncle’s son, who took his own life at 23, a little over a year after my mother’s death.

My father, who was tragically murdered.

My older brother, who died from toxic fumes while on a cruise in 2019.

My grandmother, who passed away in 2023 after a long battle with cancer. May Allah grant her Jannatul Firdaus and have mercy on her, Ameen.

I’ve also experienced broken friendships, miscarriages and divorce, the loss of the life I thought I was going to have—goodbyes of a different kind but no less impactful.

a street sign pointing in opposite directions at a train station — Photo by Tolu Akinyemi 🇳🇬 on Unsplash

Each goodbye taught me something invaluable.

As a child, I struggled with letting go and dealing with change. My mother, seeing this, sat me down at our kitchen table, when I was seven years old, and she made me a cup of hot coco and talked to me about the temporary nature of life.

She did her best to explain the concept, but my heart couldn't grasp it, and all I could ask was, "But why?"
She answered, "That’s life. Everything ends."

Her words have stayed with me. Life is transient, and everything in this world is temporary. But how did I actually say goodbye? How did I find the strength to let go?

Allah tells us in the Quran:

21:33

وَهُوَ ٱلَّذِى خَلَقَ ٱلَّيْلَ وَٱلنَّهَارَ وَٱلشَّمْسَ وَٱلْقَمَرَ ۖ كُلٌّۭ فِى فَلَكٍۢ يَسْبَحُونَ ٣٣

And He is the One Who created the day and the night, the sun and the moon—each travelling in an orbit.

sunset — Photo by Jason Mavrommatis on Unsplash

Reflecting on this ayah, I am reminded of the sun, a celestial body that, by Allah’s divine will, is part of sustaining life on Earth. Yet, I am also aware that even this magnificent creation will one day cease to exist. This contemplation brings a profound sense of tranquility, guiding me to accept the fleeting nature of this world.

I no longer resist the reality that I yearn for things to remain unchanged. Instead, I acknowledge that such permanence was never destined for this transient life. My desire for constancy is a natural aspect of my human experience, and it reflects the inherent struggle of our existence.

By shifting my focus from seeking permanence in this world—where it inevitably leads to heartbreak—I turn my longing towards the Hereafter. I now aspire for Jannah (Paradise), an eternal realm where nothing ever fades. In my moments of solitude, I envision the boundless beauty of Jannah and converse with Allah, beseeching Him to grant me the blessings I deeply yearn for in this everlasting abode.

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said:
"No fatigue, nor disease, nor sorrow, nor sadness, nor hurt, nor distress befalls a Muslim, even if it were the prick he receives from a thorn, but that Allah expiates some of his sins for that." (Sahih Bukhari)

This hadith is a reminder that the pain and sorrow we feel in this life are not in vain. They serve a greater purpose and, through them, Allah forgives our sins and elevates our ranks in the Hereafter. I know when you’re experiencing the pain it’s hard to remember this, but when you do it helps to ease the pain.

When faced with hardship, I turn to Allah, seeking His divine ease, and I express my gratitude for the comfort He has bestowed upon me and continues to offer. The process of saying goodbye, though never devoid of pain, becomes more manageable. It is not that the sorrow diminishes, but rather, I find solace in knowing that Allah has prepared me throughout my life for such moments of loss.

I have learned to purify my heart (very much an ongoing process in the beginning stages), by removing everything that does not belong, and dedicating it solely to Allah. This act of spiritual cleansing transforms the act of letting go into a bearable, albeit still sorrowful, experience. Through this preparation and trust in Allah’s wisdom, the weight of goodbyes is softened, and the journey through grief becomes a path to deeper faith and acceptance.

94:5

فَإِنَّ مَعَ ٱلْعُسْرِ يُسْرًا ٥

So, surely with hardship comes ease.

94:6

إِنَّ مَعَ ٱلْعُسْرِ يُسْرًۭا ٦

Surely with ˹that˺ hardship comes ˹more˺ ease.

This ayah is a promise from Allah that WITH every difficulty, there IS ease. It’s a reminder to hold on to hope, even in the darkest moments.

A Journey of Acceptance

shallow focus photo of person touching black tray — Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

As I mop my kitchen floor in the quiet of the evening, memories of kitchens from days gone by gently surface. I am transported back to my grandmother’s kitchen, where I first learned to crawl, a space filled with joy and untouched by the sorrows that life would later impose. I recall the kitchen floor I clung to when the grief of my father’s death felt insurmountable, the weight of loss so heavy it made standing impossible. And then there’s the kitchen where my feet swung rhythmically each morning as my mother prepared fresh-squeezed orange juice—each drop a testament to the boundless love of a mother.

These kitchens, now belonging to others, still cradle memories suspended in time, like secrets etched into their very walls. Not only of me and my family but of the generations before us who lived, laughed, cried, and said their goodbyes within those walls. These floors, now worn and distant, stand as silent witnesses, preserving the echoes of laughter, the weight of tears, and the essence of lives once lived in the spaces they embraced.

As I admire the freshly mopped floor, I realize that this kitchen too, will one day be remembered, perhaps by someone else, as a place where life’s moments unfolded—where joy, sorrow, and love left their indelible marks, just as they did in the kitchens of days long past.

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So, How Do You Say Goodbye?

So how do you say goodbye? By embracing the Qadr (Divine Decree) of Allah, and letting only Allah occupy your heart. This doesn’t make the pain of goodbye any less intense, but it does make it bearable, but your heart will be more prepared, knowing that this life was always meant to be temporary and the day of goodbyes are inevitable. In the end, everything will die, even Jibril (as) will die— and only Allah will remain.

55:26

كُلُّ مَنْ عَلَيْهَا فَانٍۢ ٢٦

Every being on earth is bound to perish.

55:27

وَيَبْقَىٰ وَجْهُ رَبِّكَ ذُو ٱلْجَلَـٰلِ وَٱلْإِكْرَامِ ٢٧

Only your Lord Himself, full of Majesty and Honour, will remain ˹forever˺.

This journey of acceptance has not been easy. It begins with understanding that we cannot navigate it alone. You must rely on Allah. Attempting to do it alone would be to overlook the guidance of Allah. True acceptance is not a passive resignation but an active process—one that involves fully engaging with your emotions, feeling the sadness, acknowledging the pain, and seeking strength from Allah through heartfelt dua (supplication).

For me it looks like, every day, seeking closeness to Allah through the Quran—not just to read, but to immerse myself in its wisdom, contemplating its meanings, and applying its lessons to my life. The Quran is far more than a book to be read occasionally; it is humanity’s guide, a divine roadmap. As Allah says, "We have revealed to you the Book as an explanation of all things, a guide, a mercy, and good news for those who ˹fully˺ submit." (Surah An-Nahl: 89).

Life is hard! It was designed that way by your Creator. And the ease comes from Him.

How do you find solace in the face of loss? Take a moment to turn to Allah, seeking His guidance and comfort.