The Last Prayer

The Last Prayer

Ahmad was an ordinary boy with extraordinary dreams. He was intelligent, determined, and full of hope for a brighter tomorrow. Yet poverty clung to him like a shadow, refusing to let him walk freely toward his ambitions. His father had died in a tragic accident when Ahmad was only ten. From that day, his mother became both father and mother—working tirelessly, sacrificing every comfort to ensure her son’s future.

She starved so that he could eat. She stitched torn clothes late into the night so he could go to school with dignity. And she carried only one dream in her heart:

"One day, my son will become an officer. He will rise above this poverty, and life will smile upon him."

Those words became Ahmad’s guiding star. Whenever he felt weak, he looked into his mother’s weary yet radiant eyes, and strength returned to him.

Years rolled by, and Ahmad entered university. He buried himself in books, determined to fulfill his mother’s dream. But hardship had already left its cruel signatures on her face. Her back was bent, her hands roughened, her body frail—but her heart remained unshaken.

One evening, while Ahmad studied late into the night, his mother’s body shook violently with a fit of coughing. Alarmed, he rushed her to the hospital. After long examinations, the doctor sighed and said:

"She has a lung disease. Treatment is possible, but it is expensive."

Ahmad’s world trembled. How could he, a struggling student, afford such treatment? Yet the thought of losing her was unbearable. He took up extra jobs—teaching, tutoring, even menial labor—juggling sleepless nights between studies and work, clinging to hope.

But his mother, ever selfless, would often say with a tired smile:

"My son, don’t waste your strength on me. Focus on your studies. That is what matters."

For Ahmad, however, nothing mattered more than her.

Her illness worsened. One night, he entered her room and saw her quietly weeping with a rosary in her trembling hands. He clasped her fingers and whispered, choking back his tears:

"Mother, don’t worry. I will fix everything."

She looked at him with eyes heavy with both love and resignation.

"My child, if fate does not allow me to stay… promise me you will not give up. Do not let our dream remain unfinished."

Those words pierced Ahmad’s soul. He held her against his chest and cried, “You will never leave me, Mother.”

But the dawn that followed carried the weight of destiny. On her final bed, with her breath growing faint, she whispered her last prayer:

"O Lord, bless my Ahmad with success."

And then, silence. Her chest stilled, her soul departed.

Ahmad’s world collapsed. The walls of the house echoed with her absence, her voice lingered in every corner, her fragrance clung to the air—but she was gone.

For days, he wandered in grief, until one afternoon he opened her old wooden trunk. Inside lay a faded diary. With trembling hands, he turned the pages and read:

"My Ahmad will one day become a great man. People will be proud of him."

Tears blurred his vision, but a fire of resolve ignited within him. That very moment, Ahmad made a vow—he would not let his mother’s prayer fade into the dust of memory.

Years passed. Through sleepless nights and relentless effort, Ahmad climbed every rung of struggle. Finally, the day arrived when he held his appointment letter in his hands—he had become an officer, just as his mother had dreamed.

On that day, instead of celebrating with friends, he went alone to the graveyard. Kneeling by the mound of soil, he placed the letter gently upon it and whispered:

"Mother, today your dream has come true. Your prayer lives within me."

A soft breeze swept across the graveyard, carrying with it a fragrance of peace. Ahmad closed his eyes and felt it—his mother was still with him, proud, smiling, eternal.