The road to Abwa’ was hot and quiet, stretching between the sacred city of Mecca — where the Kaaba stands — and Medina, far to the north. I walked behind the Prophet ﷺ that day, not as a companion of great rank, but as a simple helper. You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I was honored to carry the water skin and tidy the path as we traveled.
I thought it would be just another journey, the kind we often took as part of our mission. But when we neared a small grave under a solitary tree, I noticed the Prophet’s pace slow. He moved with purpose, but his steps became gentler, more careful.
“This is the grave of my mother, Amina,” he said softly.
Amina bint Wahb — I had heard of her. She was the mother of Muhammad ﷺ, the Messenger of Allah, peace be upon him. She died when he was just a small boy. Some say he was only six years old when she passed while returning from visiting his uncles in Medina. Her grave lay here in this quiet place called Abwa’.
He knelt before the mound of earth, and I could see his shoulders tremble. He wept — not loudly, but deeply. I had never seen him cry like this.
Those around him, even the toughest among us, felt our chests tighten. One of the companions asked gently, “O Messenger of Allah, why do you weep so?”
And he replied, “This is the grave of my mother. Allah allowed me to visit it, so I weep for her.”
I will never forget those words. They echoed in my heart.
In that moment, I understood something that books cannot teach and sermons cannot fully explain. The Prophet ﷺ, the most honored of creation, was not ashamed to show his love, even his sorrow, for a mother he had lost as a child.
His tears were not a weakness. They were a mercy.
Our scholars say this story is told in Sahih al-Bukhari — one of the most trusted collections of the Prophet’s sayings — and in the Seerah of Ibn Hisham, which tells us of the Prophet’s life. They tell us he kept her memory alive, though she died before he became a prophet, and though he never saw her again after that sad journey.
After we left Abwa’, the Prophet ﷺ was quiet for the rest of the day.
And I, a simple helper on a dusty road, carried something far more valuable than our belongings. I carried the weight of his tears — a lesson in love, in mercy, and in honoring those who came before us.
Now, whenever I hear someone speak of their parents, living or gone, I remember that day. And I whisper a prayer for Amina, mother of our Prophet ﷺ.
May Allah have mercy on her.
The road to Abwa’ was hot and quiet, stretching between the sacred city of Mecca — where the Kaaba stands — and Medina, far to the north. I walked behind the Prophet ﷺ that day, not as a companion of great rank, but as a simple helper. You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I was honored to carry the water skin and tidy the path as we traveled.
I thought it would be just another journey, the kind we often took as part of our mission. But when we neared a small grave under a solitary tree, I noticed the Prophet’s pace slow. He moved with purpose, but his steps became gentler, more careful.
“This is the grave of my mother, Amina,” he said softly.
Amina bint Wahb — I had heard of her. She was the mother of Muhammad ﷺ, the Messenger of Allah, peace be upon him. She died when he was just a small boy. Some say he was only six years old when she passed while returning from visiting his uncles in Medina. Her grave lay here in this quiet place called Abwa’.
He knelt before the mound of earth, and I could see his shoulders tremble. He wept — not loudly, but deeply. I had never seen him cry like this.
Those around him, even the toughest among us, felt our chests tighten. One of the companions asked gently, “O Messenger of Allah, why do you weep so?”
And he replied, “This is the grave of my mother. Allah allowed me to visit it, so I weep for her.”
I will never forget those words. They echoed in my heart.
In that moment, I understood something that books cannot teach and sermons cannot fully explain. The Prophet ﷺ, the most honored of creation, was not ashamed to show his love, even his sorrow, for a mother he had lost as a child.
His tears were not a weakness. They were a mercy.
Our scholars say this story is told in Sahih al-Bukhari — one of the most trusted collections of the Prophet’s sayings — and in the Seerah of Ibn Hisham, which tells us of the Prophet’s life. They tell us he kept her memory alive, though she died before he became a prophet, and though he never saw her again after that sad journey.
After we left Abwa’, the Prophet ﷺ was quiet for the rest of the day.
And I, a simple helper on a dusty road, carried something far more valuable than our belongings. I carried the weight of his tears — a lesson in love, in mercy, and in honoring those who came before us.
Now, whenever I hear someone speak of their parents, living or gone, I remember that day. And I whisper a prayer for Amina, mother of our Prophet ﷺ.
May Allah have mercy on her.
