I still remember the dust in the air, thick with the cries of pain and the clash of swords. We were outnumbered. We were hurting. And yet, in the middle of it all, the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ—peace be upon him—walked through the battlefield as if his heart had broken in pieces.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I was there at Uhud. I was one of the younger fighters from Medina, the city that welcomed the Prophet ﷺ after he left Mecca. I had trained with the older companions, but nothing had prepared me for a day like that.
After the battle ended, I followed the Prophet ﷺ as he searched for his companions who had fallen. His pace was slow. His eyes were deep with sorrow. Then we came to the body of Hamza—may Allah be pleased with him.
Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib was not only the Prophet’s uncle, but he had been like a lion in battle—a protector of Islam from its earliest days. But now... I struggle to describe what we saw. The enemies had done terrible things to his body. I had to look away.
But the Prophet ﷺ knelt beside him.
He didn’t speak loudly. He didn't shout in anger, though every one of us knew the pain rising in his chest. He just looked at Hamza, tears falling from his eyes, and called him, "Asadullah wa Asadur-Rasul"—the Lion of Allah and the Lion of His Messenger.
I realized something in that moment: this was not just grief. It was love. Deep, honest love for a companion who had given his life for the truth.
Some of the companions began to weep. One of them whispered, “Look how the Messenger of Allah mourns his uncle.” Another said, “He never wept like this for anyone before.”
The Prophet ﷺ stood and spoke, not in anger, but in longing. “I have never seen anything more painful than the death of Hamza.” That's what our scholars say he said. And I believed it. You could see it in his eyes.
A woman from the Ansar came toward the battlefield, calling for her husband, her father, her brother. She was told they were all gone. But when she saw the Prophet ﷺ was alive, she said, “If you are safe, then all is well.”
That amazed me.
How could someone's heart be strong enough to say that after losing everyone she loved? And yet, maybe that’s what faith does. It connects you to something higher, something more lasting than even your family or your own life.
I stood there in silence, letting the lesson sink in. Death had struck hard that day, but so had love and loyalty. The Prophet ﷺ showed us how to mourn with dignity, and how to honor those who gave everything.
I left Uhud with a heavier heart, yet somehow it felt stronger. I had seen what sacrifice meant. And I had seen the tears of a man who loved for the sake of Allah.
Story Note: Inspired by authentic seerah traditions recorded by Ibn Ishaq and others describing the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ deep sorrow at the martyrdom of Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib at the Battle of Uhud.
I still remember the dust in the air, thick with the cries of pain and the clash of swords. We were outnumbered. We were hurting. And yet, in the middle of it all, the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ—peace be upon him—walked through the battlefield as if his heart had broken in pieces.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I was there at Uhud. I was one of the younger fighters from Medina, the city that welcomed the Prophet ﷺ after he left Mecca. I had trained with the older companions, but nothing had prepared me for a day like that.
After the battle ended, I followed the Prophet ﷺ as he searched for his companions who had fallen. His pace was slow. His eyes were deep with sorrow. Then we came to the body of Hamza—may Allah be pleased with him.
Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib was not only the Prophet’s uncle, but he had been like a lion in battle—a protector of Islam from its earliest days. But now... I struggle to describe what we saw. The enemies had done terrible things to his body. I had to look away.
But the Prophet ﷺ knelt beside him.
He didn’t speak loudly. He didn't shout in anger, though every one of us knew the pain rising in his chest. He just looked at Hamza, tears falling from his eyes, and called him, "Asadullah wa Asadur-Rasul"—the Lion of Allah and the Lion of His Messenger.
I realized something in that moment: this was not just grief. It was love. Deep, honest love for a companion who had given his life for the truth.
Some of the companions began to weep. One of them whispered, “Look how the Messenger of Allah mourns his uncle.” Another said, “He never wept like this for anyone before.”
The Prophet ﷺ stood and spoke, not in anger, but in longing. “I have never seen anything more painful than the death of Hamza.” That's what our scholars say he said. And I believed it. You could see it in his eyes.
A woman from the Ansar came toward the battlefield, calling for her husband, her father, her brother. She was told they were all gone. But when she saw the Prophet ﷺ was alive, she said, “If you are safe, then all is well.”
That amazed me.
How could someone's heart be strong enough to say that after losing everyone she loved? And yet, maybe that’s what faith does. It connects you to something higher, something more lasting than even your family or your own life.
I stood there in silence, letting the lesson sink in. Death had struck hard that day, but so had love and loyalty. The Prophet ﷺ showed us how to mourn with dignity, and how to honor those who gave everything.
I left Uhud with a heavier heart, yet somehow it felt stronger. I had seen what sacrifice meant. And I had seen the tears of a man who loved for the sake of Allah.
Story Note: Inspired by authentic seerah traditions recorded by Ibn Ishaq and others describing the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ deep sorrow at the martyrdom of Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib at the Battle of Uhud.
