If this note has found its way into your hands, then time has already done its work. It has carried us far from the day you were born. Perhaps you are reading this as a young woman. Perhaps I am sitting beside you, smiling quietly as your eyes move across these words. Or perhaps I have long since returned to my Creator, and this letter is all that remains of my voice.
Whatever the years may have brought, know this before you read another line: you have always been loved. Not only from the day you were born, nor even from the day we learnt that your mother was expecting you, but long before that. You first lived in our prayers.
Your grandmother and I waited for you with hearts full of hope. We never demanded anything of Allah. We simply prayed with patience, knowing that if He chose to bless our family once more, we would receive that blessing with gratitude. Every prayer carried the thought of you before we even knew your name. Every dua ended in hope.
Then, one beautiful day, you arrived.
I have lived through many seasons. I have known success and failure, celebration and sorrow. I have watched the world change more than I can count. Yet there are only a handful of moments when life seems to stand still – when the heart becomes so full that words quietly disappear. The day you were born was one of those moments.
People often ask what happiness looks like. I wish they could have seen your mother holding you. She has always been my little girl. No matter how many birthdays she celebrated, part of my heart continued to see the child who once reached for my hand.
Then, in one breathtaking moment, I watched her cradle you against her chest. My daughter had become a mother. A new mother held a new life. And I, who had spent so many years protecting her, saw your father standing beside her – quiet, steady and strong – watching over both you and your mother. Another generation had begun. There are moments when Heaven seems very close to the earth. That was one of them.
You may never fully understand what your arrival meant to our family. Before anyone had seen your tiny face, you were already part of our conversations. We wondered whose eyes you would inherit. We imagined your laughter. We prayed for your health, your happiness, your faith and your future.
You arrived carrying no possessions, titles or achievements. Yet you brought something priceless, quietly and without ceremony: the birth of a grandparent.
You were born far from us, across oceans and skies. There were many miles between our home and yours, but love has never measured distance in kilometers. A grandfather’s heart can travel where none can fly. From the moment you opened your eyes, you belonged in our hearts.
One day, perhaps many years from now, you may wonder who your grandfather was. Let me tell you: I was simply a man who loved his family and discovered that becoming a father was one miracle, while becoming a grandfather was another.
By the time you read this, the world will have shown you both its beauty and its cruelty. You will discover that some people keep their promises, while others break them. Some days will arrive dressed in sunshine; others will seem wrapped in storms. You will know laughter that leaves your cheeks aching and sadness that words cannot easily explain. Do not fear either. Both are faithful companions on the journey of being human.
When life becomes difficult, and it will, because no life escapes hardship, do not ask, “Why me?” Instead, ask, “What is Allah teaching me now?” Faith does not mean believing that storms will never come. Faith means believing that Allah never abandons those who place their trust in Him.
If I could leave you only a few treasures, they would not be gold, wealth or property. These would be:
Guard your honesty as though it were a rare jewel. Once lost, it is painfully difficult to recover. Choose kindness, especially when no one expects it from you. Speak gently. Forgive generously. Apologies quickly.
Never mistake humility for weakness, wealth for success, or popularity for respect. Character is built quietly, choice by choice, long before the world notices. Read widely. Remain curious. Ask questions. Listen carefully to those who have lived longer than you. Travel when life allows. Learn from people whose lives and experiences differ from your own. Never stop wondering at how beautifully Allah has created this world.
Remember your parents. One day, you may realise that every grey hair they earned carried a story about loving you. Love them well. Be patient with them. A parent’s love cannot truly be repaid; it can only be honoured with gratitude.
Never forget where you came from. Carry your faith with dignity, your family with honour and your name with integrity. If people forget everything else about you, let them remember this: she was truthful, she was compassionate, and she made the people around her feel safe.
As I write these words, you are too tiny to understand them. You know nothing yet of the world. The world, however, has already become more beautiful because you are in it.
Years from now, when you close this letter, I want you to know with certainty that before you spoke your first word, before you took your first step, and before you knew your own name, there was already a grandfather thanking Allah every day simply because you existed.
May Allah protect your faith when it is tested. May He strengthen your heart when it is weary. May He keep you humble in success and steadfast in hardship. May He surround you with people who bring you closer to goodness. May your home always be filled with mercy, your life with purpose and your heart with peace.
I may or may not be beside you in every chapter of your life. But my love for you will not change with time. It will remain with you—quiet, steady and always present. And when you are old enough to understand what love truly means, perhaps you will smile and whisper, “My grandfather loved me before we ever met.”
Welcome Mehwish, my dear child.
You are deeply loved.
Your Grandpa
Author is the Publisher, Daily TIMES of Bangladesh
