The ghosts of Ramadan past

how will you greet this blessed month?

There’s a part of me that yearns for Ramadan of the past. Of the long hot nights and of fresh watermelon with cheese. Of the Ramadan where we never left the masjid and stayed til fajr. Of the Ramadans we couldn’t yet drive, so we’d go with our parents every night to the same masjid and grab slurpees after.

Of the Ramadan where we’d eat on the same table as our grandma and cousins. Of the Ramadan we prayed jama’a together at home because a pandemic shut down the mosques.

Of the Ramadan where we’d sit in the high school cafeteria reading a book, or taking a nap, or complaining about the smell of food. Of the Ramadan we finally got our license and visited masajid we’ve never walked into before.

Of the Ramadan we stood in prayer for 20 rakaat, and of the one where we prayed on the steps of Masjid AlAqsa outside under the bright stars. Of the nights we cried during witr. And the nights we laughed with friends in the parking lot. Of the Quran khatm we accomplished before Eid. And the sadness of that last iftar mixed with the excitement for Eid.

I sit and reflect and wish for those same warm feelings of a Ramadan well spent. I forget about the exams we studied for in the middle of the night in those same Ramadans. And of the piling dishes that needed to be washed and put away after the azooma was over.

And the Ramadan where I bled for the first time and still went with my family to the mosque at night, cramping in the crowded back. Or the Ramadan where I babysat and barely prayed taraweeh.

Ramadan 2021 - during the COVID pandemic - in San Antonio, Texas

And the first Ramadan away from family in a city that never sleeps but where I ate my doordashed iftar alone in my hotel room. And the Ramadan where we worked full time and snuck a nap in during lunch break. And the nights where we left after four rakaat to try to catch up on work we couldn’t focus on during the day. And the first Ramadan after we got married and were alone in a state where the community wasn’t the same, and our iftars were lonely.

Or the Ramadan after unemployment with no idea on what’s next. Or the Ramadan where money got tight, and grocery prices soared. Or the Ramadan in a pandemic where you didn’t feel the warmth of the shoulders next to you. Or the Ramadan after the death of a loved one, or a loved one of a loved one. Or the Ramadan where the bombs won’t stop falling, and the blood keeps spilling.

We look back and mainly remember the highlights and how good we felt. We regret the nights we slipped up but that’s not what we remember. We remember the month was full of forgiveness, and we forgive ourselves and others.

The reality is, there will always be a Ramadan where it will be harder to “enjoy”. There will be a Ramadan to come where you’ll have kids and the thought of nightly taraweeh is a dream. The Ramadan where you’re breastfeeding (Check out New Mom Club below for tips from a friend!).

Ramadan looks different now- Part 1

The Ramadan where you’re in residency, or in a graduate program, or working nights. The Ramadan where your parent, sibling, or friend passes away. The Ramadan where we are battling a sickness or are caring for someone who is. The Ramadans when our bones will ache and we need a chair, and an earlier bedtime.

Life will always interject in our Ramadan, and it’s meant to. It isn’t a month where all distractions cease to exist, it’s a month where we center our religion and our Creator, and attempt to continue to do so throughout the rest of the year. To be able to fully worship and focus on nothing but our connection with the Quran and Allah is a privilege, but it’s not realistic for most of the years we spend on this earth.

Looking at the past can sometimes hinder our growth. Or it can inspire us. I look back and yearn for the nights I performed ‘itikaf at the masjid, and so I plan to fit in a few nights this year.

We can’t idealize past efforts of the “best” Ramadan and because of *insert current hardship* cancel out this year’s efforts. We don’t know what deeds Allah accepts, and it’s hard to point out which fasts were the most sincere.

I was rushing to get some grading done, and some fiction reading done and some writing done, before the clock strikes maghrib tonight and Ramadan officially begins. I planned how I’m going to break my fast while in class, and told the professor before hand.

We bought all our groceries, deep cleaned the house, attempted some recipe planning, worked out one more time in the day, and want to start Ramadan with a calendar filled with masjid, quran and qiyam.

But I’m slowing down as I type this. I choose to greet Ramadan with grace and in a less chaotic and stressed manner. I decide to pick up the Quran and read Surat Al Kahf, because it’s Friday. I focus on the words and I breathe slowly. I know I’ll get to my essays. I know the food will be on the table.

This Ramadan looks different, but when has Ramadan ever looked the same? It moves up ten days every year, so even our fasts begin and end at different times. The goals of this month are constant, and the actions are what we make them.

To remember our Lord, to connect with Him and to be better people and Muslims ourselves. To put in our best efforts— not only in salah and Quran, but in our work, in how we treat our neighbors and those who serve us at the restaurants and grocery stores.

It’s in the way we speak to our siblings and parents and spouses. It’s in the way we limit our consumption and skip the tenth bazaar and ignore the Ramadan deal for the next printed modal.

The beginning of the year comes and we make these big goals and resolutions, but Ramadan is here and we have to stop pretending and become the best version of ourselves.

There will be a Ramadan we don’t make it to. A Ramadan will come and it will be our last, and we most likely won’t know it.

Welcome Ramadan with a bowed head and an open heart. Ramadan Mubarak. <3

الْلَّهُمَّ اِنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ الْعَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّي

Allaahumma innaka ‘afuwwun, tuhibb al-‘afwa, fa’fu ‘anni

“O Allah, You are the Most forgiving, and You love to forgive, so forgive me.”