It happened during the final days of the Prophet’s ﷺ life. I was just a young boy then, barely taller than a camel’s shoulder, following my father through the narrow lanes of Madinah — the blessed city where the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ lived and taught us about Allah.
You won’t find my name in the books of hadith, but I was there, waiting outside the Prophet’s door with the others. We had all heard that he was unwell, and each one of us, from the oldest elder to the youngest shepherd, came hoping for a word, a glance — anything — from the one Allah chose to guide us.
That morning, I saw Umm Salama — one of the Prophet’s wives and mothers of the believers — step outside with tears in her eyes. She whispered something to my father, who then said to the others, “He is asking us to come closer.”
Inside the room, I could only see shapes, the shadows of those clustered near his bed. Someone recited Qur’an softly. The Prophet ﷺ, though sick and weak, sat up with help and spoke in a voice none of us would ever forget. He said, “Take care of the prayer… and those your right hands possess.”
Some say those were his final words. Our teachers explained later that “those your right hands possess” referred to servants or anyone under our care — that we must treat them justly and kindly. But as a boy, the part that struck me was how even in his last breath, he cared more for others than himself.
I didn’t understand it all right away. I remember pulling at my father’s sleeve that night and asking, “Baba, why would he speak about that when he was in so much pain?”
My father looked at me long before answering. “Because that is the truth of love, my son,” he said. “He loved Allah, and he loved us. And so, he reminded us to never forget the most important things — prayer, and how we treat others.”
Years passed. The Prophet ﷺ had returned to Allah, and the city carried on, but something in me had changed. I began waking before dawn just to be sure I wouldn’t miss even one prayer. I noticed the way I spoke to our servant Lamiha — kinder now, with more care. I remembered how the Prophet ﷺ had married Sawda bint Zam‘a — a woman who others might’ve overlooked — to support her after hardship, showing us that kindness was greater than appearance, status, or age.
Now, I tell my own children what I learned that day. We live in a world full of voices, some loud, some confusing. But the Prophet’s voice, quiet from illness, was the one that showed us the straight path — prayer to protect our hearts, and mercy to protect our souls.
I was just a boy when I heard his final counsel. But those words became a lantern for my life.
—
Story Note: Inspired by authentic hadith reports of the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ final advice before his passing (Sahih al-Bukhari 268) and the marriage to Sawda bint Zam‘a, highlighting his mercy and care for others.
It happened during the final days of the Prophet’s ﷺ life. I was just a young boy then, barely taller than a camel’s shoulder, following my father through the narrow lanes of Madinah — the blessed city where the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ lived and taught us about Allah.
You won’t find my name in the books of hadith, but I was there, waiting outside the Prophet’s door with the others. We had all heard that he was unwell, and each one of us, from the oldest elder to the youngest shepherd, came hoping for a word, a glance — anything — from the one Allah chose to guide us.
That morning, I saw Umm Salama — one of the Prophet’s wives and mothers of the believers — step outside with tears in her eyes. She whispered something to my father, who then said to the others, “He is asking us to come closer.”
Inside the room, I could only see shapes, the shadows of those clustered near his bed. Someone recited Qur’an softly. The Prophet ﷺ, though sick and weak, sat up with help and spoke in a voice none of us would ever forget. He said, “Take care of the prayer… and those your right hands possess.”
Some say those were his final words. Our teachers explained later that “those your right hands possess” referred to servants or anyone under our care — that we must treat them justly and kindly. But as a boy, the part that struck me was how even in his last breath, he cared more for others than himself.
I didn’t understand it all right away. I remember pulling at my father’s sleeve that night and asking, “Baba, why would he speak about that when he was in so much pain?”
My father looked at me long before answering. “Because that is the truth of love, my son,” he said. “He loved Allah, and he loved us. And so, he reminded us to never forget the most important things — prayer, and how we treat others.”
Years passed. The Prophet ﷺ had returned to Allah, and the city carried on, but something in me had changed. I began waking before dawn just to be sure I wouldn’t miss even one prayer. I noticed the way I spoke to our servant Lamiha — kinder now, with more care. I remembered how the Prophet ﷺ had married Sawda bint Zam‘a — a woman who others might’ve overlooked — to support her after hardship, showing us that kindness was greater than appearance, status, or age.
Now, I tell my own children what I learned that day. We live in a world full of voices, some loud, some confusing. But the Prophet’s voice, quiet from illness, was the one that showed us the straight path — prayer to protect our hearts, and mercy to protect our souls.
I was just a boy when I heard his final counsel. But those words became a lantern for my life.
—
Story Note: Inspired by authentic hadith reports of the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ final advice before his passing (Sahih al-Bukhari 268) and the marriage to Sawda bint Zam‘a, highlighting his mercy and care for others.
