My grandmother was a woman of unwavering faith, a survivor of war and displacement who carried the weight of history with quiet strength. In 1971, she fled the violence of West Pakistan with her five children, seeking refuge in what would become Bangladesh. Though she spent much of her later life between Atlanta and New York, her heart remained in the land of rice fields and coconut trees, where the azan echoed through the villages of her youth. She was the first person to teach me how to read the Quran, instilling in me a belief that no hardship went unnoticed by Allah and that justice, even when delayed, was always in His hands. She lived into her nineties, enduring years of declining health, but the one thing she wanted most—to return to Bangladesh and be laid to rest in the place she called home—was something she never got to fulfill. On the 27th night of Ramadan, a night of mercy and divine blessing, she passed away, leaving behind a legacy of resilience, love, and steadfast faith.

I am now asking for your help in honoring her final wish. We are raising funds to cover funeral expenses and to send her body to Bangladesh, where she longed to be buried. The cost of transportation and burial is significant, and while our family is doing everything we can, we are reaching out to friends and loved ones to help us fulfill this last act of love for her. Any amount, no matter how small, will bring us closer to giving her the peace she deserves. My grandmother always reminded me that what we give in times of hardship is never lost—it is written with Allah, multiplied in blessings beyond what we can see. If you are able, please consider contributing and sharing this message. May Allah reward you for your kindness, and may He grant her the homecoming she longed for.