In Loving Memory of My Father

My beloved father, Sayyid Al-Habib Mohamed bin Abdullah bin Abdulkadir Al-Haddad, endured a long and relentless illness — one that gradually took almost everything from him. But it never took his faith. His struggle began with kidney failure, and he became dependent on haemodialysis. Later, obstruction of the superior vena cava made conventional dialysis no longer possible. He then had to undergo peritoneal dialysis at home, carrying the burden of treatment into the very place where he should have found rest. Then came severe peripheral vascular disease. Poor circulation led to infection and gangrene. First, his little toe had to be amputated. Then other toes followed. The disease continued to advance, eventually forcing him to undergo a below-knee amputation. After a prolonged hospital stay, even that was not enough. An above-knee amputation became unavoidable. One loss followed another. He endured repeated infections caused by multidrug-resistant bacteria, numerous admissions to the intensive care unit, liver failure, and severe gastrointestinal dysfunction that left his body unable to absorb nourishment properly. At times, his blood pressure fell as low as 60/40 mmHg. By any ordinary measure, he should have been too weak even to sit up. Yet he continued to attend his outpatient appointments. He remained composed. He remained dignified. He remained strong. As the illness progressed, his hearing faded. Then his vision began to fail. One by one, the functions of his body were taken from him until, near the end of his life, very little remained under his control except his mind and his lips. And still, there were no complaints. From those lips, we continued to hear: Alhamdulillah. Allahu Akbar. His body was surrendering, but his soul was not. Even in extreme frailty, he continued to guard his prayers and remained committed to praying in congregation until the end of his life. He faced every operation, every infection, every admission and every new loss with extraordinary patience. He did not ask, "Why me?" He did not surrender to bitterness. He did not allow suffering to strip him of his dignity. As his children, we often heard him remind us: "The hand that gives is better than the hand that receives." And: "Laziness is the grave of the living." These were not empty sayings. They were the principles by which he lived — generosity, discipline, resilience and service to others. Watching him deteriorate was one of the most painful experiences of our lives. We saw a strong man gradually lose his health, his mobility, his hearing and his sight. Yet in losing almost everything, he showed us what could never be taken away. Faith. Patience. Gratitude. Dignity. His illness taught us that true strength is not the ability to avoid suffering. It is the ability to endure suffering without allowing it to destroy the spirit. He became physically weaker with each passing day. But spiritually, he stood taller than all of us. We are deeply grateful that we were present during the final chapter of his life. We witnessed not merely the ending of a life, but the completion of a journey marked by endurance, remembrance and complete submission to Allah. His was not an ending defined by despair. It was an ending shaped by Alhamdulillah and Allahu Akbar. May Allah forgive him, shower him with limitless mercy, illuminate and expand his grave, and grant him the highest place in Jannah. May every pain he endured become an expiation for him and a means of raising his rank in the Hereafter. And may Allah, in His infinite mercy, reunite us one day with the father whom we loved, honoured and continue to miss beyond words. Al-Fatihah for my beloved father.