The Constant Gardener

Remembering Farhat

My late wife, may Allah have mercy on her soul, spent much of her time gardening. In her final week, I showed her a photo of her handiwork, the garden’s spring bloom, to which she initially questioned the veracity of my claim that it was indeed her garden, but within time, she forced a smile. I recalled at her janazah that over the past two months, time – and the apparent lack of it - became a permanent anxiety in my mind, but not for Farhat. When she felt well enough, she would be pruning, planting, tidying and watering – all of which I would silently question in my weakness. But Farhat never lost hope in Allah, His mercy, and the value of a good deed.

It brought to my mind the Hadith, ‘if the Day of Judgement arrives while you have a seed in your hand, and you are able to plant it, you should do so’.

In a way, this Hadith and her final weeks before she succumbed to extreme fatigue and could no longer spend time in her garden, characterised how she treated her illness – with acceptance, perseverance, but always aware of the need to earn His (swt) mercy and reward. On a car journey through Europe some years earlier, she had learnt from a Shaykh Yasir Qadhi talk about the merits of Salaatul Dhua, from that point, I always observed her making this prayer. Her attitude was profound but straightforward, seeking Allah’s bounty where possible.

She continued to write and engage with the world around her. In Ramadan, barely two months ago, she wanted me to take her to Leicester to meet with the good brothers from the bookstore Islamic Establishment. I could feel the brother tearing up when he met her and learnt of her declining health. But Farhat had no time for sympathy. She only spoke about her illness to me and a few people around her. Otherwise, it was business as usual, top of which was the maintenance of her garden.

Farhat would have been amazed to hear that hundreds turned out for her Janazah. She would have equally been taken aback by the messages we received from around the world, from mothers and young women who had benefited from her writings. As far afield as Malaysia, duas were given in her name. I am told Youtube’s algorithms have resuscitated my Thinking Muslim interview with her two years ago. To the surprise of her siblings, there has been an outpouring of love, some of whom didn’t even know she was a prolific writer. Such was her total disregard for what others thought about her.

Allah showed her a lot of mercy; she passed away on a Wednesday, but on the Saturday prior, she suddenly came out of her fatigued state and engaged energetically with people around her. Something I was later told happens before death, a phenomenon called terminal lucidity. My brother had given her Zam Zam water, which I mixed with her juice. When I told her, she jested, ‘They never miss an opportunity to exploit the healing properties of the Muslim ummah! ’ I looked at my son in amazement, ‘you have suddenly become very articulate, ’ I replied. Her response, ‘and you have become sarcastic!’

She told me she wanted to be a gardener in Jannah. I ask Allah to raise our status and forgive us so we can be reunited in her garden, pottering away and asking me to dig a hole here or to compost her trimmings.

Please do give generously to her Sadaqah Jariyah campaign to help Lewisham Mosque with their rebuild.