Author: Mehtap Yıldırım Yükselten
Since no one knows when they will die, people begin even the last day of their lives as though it were just another ordinary day. When we read reports of deaths, we encounter one sobering story after another: “Those travelling to an engagement ceremony were killed in a minibus accident.” “They died in a traffic accident while returning from a funeral.” “His passion for motorcycles cost him his life.” “He suffered a heart attack while playing football.”
We should read such news not merely as events that happened to others, but as reminders addressed to ourselves. Every death we hear about or witness is, in a sense, a message sent to us as well. Every funeral is a silent warning that reminds us of our own final journey.
When someone says, “So-and-so has passed away,” our immediate reaction is usually, “Why? How did they die?” Yet whatever the apparent cause may be, every death is ultimately the appointed term of life—ajal. When a person's appointed time arrives, they surrender their soul to Azrael (peace be upon him). The causes of death are merely veils placed before the reality.
According to an Islamic narration, when the duty of taking souls was entrusted to Azrael (peace be upon him), he said to Allah (the One and Only God): “Your servants will complain about me, resent me, and dislike me.” Allah, in His wisdom, replied that He would place the veil of apparent causes between Azrael and His servants, so that their complaints would be directed towards those outward causes instead.
When the appointed time arrives, a person's bond with this world is severed. No additional time is granted to finish unfinished tasks, nor is there an opportunity to ask, “May I live a little longer?” Leaving behind every worldly concern, one passes through the door of a realm never before experienced. Death draws a line across all the tomorrows in which we planned, postponed, and imagined the future.
After I finish writing these lines, and after you finish reading them, we will most likely return to our worldly affairs. We will think about our children's future, the needs of our homes, unfinished tasks, or what to prepare for dinner this evening. Allah created us with such a natural disposition; otherwise, we would not be able to sustain life in this world.
The point, however, is not to abandon worldly responsibilities and wait for death. The point is to remember where we are ultimately headed while carrying out all these responsibilities. Human beings are obliged to live, work, earn a livelihood, care for their families, and fulfil their duties. Yet when all their attention becomes absorbed by this temporary life, and they forget their true and everlasting life, that is where the real loss begins.
No matter how long a person lives, worldly affairs never come to an end. One debt is paid, another begins. One need is met, another arises. Children grow up; there are school expenses, worries, military service, marriage, finding employment—and life continually presents new occupations.
Worldly affairs never truly finish, however long we live. We often say, “Let me take care of these things first; then I will devote more time to my worship and to preparing for the Hereafter.” Yet before we realise it, life itself has slipped away.
The greatest task in life is to use life itself—the capital entrusted to us—wisely, without wasting it in vain. Our true goal, our greatest plan and project, should be to prepare for our eternal life in the Hereafter.
When the appointed time arrives, no one will be granted another opportunity to return to this world. The only opportunity we possess is the one we hold today.
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