Omar Nofal
I was having difficulty sleeping, so I thought I should write out my thoughts from yesterday’s janaza for Omar Nofal. I regretfully did not get to know him as well as many of you — I had stopped being active at ICPC during his time there. I find it remarkable that, despite not knowing me that well, he would come and say salaam to me with a smile, seek advice, and always be respectful. This young man had the best akhlaq, and no one can recall even a single bad thing to say about him. I know that he was reading this blog, and I feel genuinely honored that someone like him was taking the time to read and benefit from my stories. I remember speaking to my friend about him a while back, and he said:
“Do you know Omar Nofal? He is my boy. We studied together in a halaqa.”
“Nah, he is my boy. I love that kid,” I replied.
Three months ago, I had my last full conversation with Omar. We both happened to park at the same time in a run-down parking garage. There were no visible stairs or elevator, so we walked level by level down to the ground floor on our way to a wedding. I first expressed how happy I was to hear that his leukemia had gone into remission. I could tell he was not seeking pity, nor did he want anyone to feel sorry for him. In fact, he changed the subject and started asking me for advice about other things.
He mentioned, almost in passing, that he wanted to catch up and felt a little behind everyone else.
“Everyone learns at their own pace,” I told him.
He told me he was considering studying international relations. I told him I didn’t know that field well, but that people like Sister Dalia Fahmy, who was also at the wedding, could help him. Looking back, it’s remarkable — how lofty his intentions were, how much he was planning for a future, all while living with his diagnosis. May Allah (SWT) reward him for the best of his intentions. After that conversation, we only crossed paths sparingly during Ramadan — an exchange of eye contact, a brief salaam — but that conversation in the parking garage was our last real meeting.
After hearing all the stories shared at his janaza today — about his extraordinary patience, his teaching of the Quran, his continuous thirst for knowledge, and his unwavering commitment to worshipping Allah (SWT) — it is we who are falling behind him, not the other way around. There are people who live seventy or eighty years, and I swear by Allah (SWT), they did not accomplish as much as Omar Nofal did in his short time on earth.
I find it remarkable that so many shuyookh and teachers came forward to speak about how he had learned from them. I counted at least nine shuyookh that he had studied with. Nine shuyookh! And who knows how many other teachers he kept private. Many of us would be blessed to have even one as a teacher.
Shaykh al-Hayek remarked: “It may be that he has taught some of us here. But Wallahi, he is teaching all of us right now — perhaps the greatest and most profound lesson. If he were to speak now — to the youth, to young Muslims — if he could speak right now, he would say: work for this moment. Work for this grave. Do you know what Omar is doing right now? At this very moment, he is being tested, he is being questioned: Who is your Lord? What is your religion? What is your deen? What is your way of life? Who is your Rasul? Omar — insha’Allah, we ask Allah (SWT) that he be firm in his responses.”
Shaykh Yasir Fahmy remarked that Omar Nofal lived a full life — despite living only nineteen years.
Omar was 19 years old when he passed away. And nineteen years ago, my friend Wasseem also passed away — whose anniversary is approaching in six days. Omar’s passing reminds me a great deal of Wasseem. This year alone, we have lost so many people who would regularly be in the masjid for salah: Brother Qasib, Brother Khaled, Brother Dean, and now Omar Nofal. Shaykh Qatanani remarked that he has attended thousands of janazas, but had never attended one quite like this.
I believe it is imperative that we take this as a sign — a call to change, to hold each other accountable, and to be present in the masjid. Omar was in severe pain, yet he still made time for Allah (SWT). What excuse do any of us have?
We heard so many signs, insha’Allah, of a righteous ending for Omar. We all loved Omar Nofal, and we all wanted to claim him — for our community, for ourselves — but in the end, he belonged to Allah (SWT) and he returned to Allah (SWT). Allah (SWT) loved him more than any of us ever could, and decreed to take his soul back to Himself.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’oon.
Verily we belong to Allah (SWT), and verily to Him we are all returning.
