Only the Good Die Young — No Discernible Pattern
Twenty years on, Wasseem has not left my thoughts, and I keep him in my dua. I find myself returning to him again and again. Good friends are rare; friends you can trust are rarer still; and friends you consider a brother might as well not exist. It was Allah (SWT)’s divine plan that Wasseem would pass away twenty years ago. We loved Wasseem, but Allah (SWT) loved him more and decreed his return. What Wasseem did for me, I have tried to do for dozens of other young people, repeating that pattern over and over. I have done my best to keep his legacy alive. Young Muslims has grown exponentially since his time, and I hope a portion of that reaches Wasseem. If there is any good in what I have done, anything sincere, I ask Allah (SWT) to accept it and place it in Wasseem’s scale as well. I am resharing this story, as I did last year, so that others can benefit. I have made some changes from the original and combined it with another piece.
I have written a lot about Wasseem over the years, and I don’t think I could ever do him justice. He was a positive, outgoing, happy, encouraging older brother and mentor whom I met at Young Muslims. He was my brother’s best friend. I would later learn that, like me, he lived a life split between Darul Islah and the Islamic Center of Passaic County. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about that side of his life, but I’m friends today with many of the people he befriended there.
Back in the days of landlines, you had to call the house first before you could reach the person you actually wanted to talk to. Wasseem would call our house and genuinely talk with my parents, asking about their day and how they were doing. His character, his akhlaaq, and his genuine concern for us are things I have rarely found in anyone since.
In the last years of his life, Wasseem was tested with macular degeneration, a condition that slowly steals the vision at the center of your eye. He bore this test with patience and tawakul, and I never once heard him complain. We were young and stupid back then (I still am), and some of us would call him “Daredevil,” after the Marvel superhero who went blind. It was a nickname he despised — because “Daredevil couldn’t see, and he still could.” As his condition worsened, he lost the ability to drive and struggled to use a computer, magnifying the text on his screen and his phone several times over.
I can’t remember the specific halaqas he led; all I remember is that he was smart, passionate — an exceptional speaker who called others to Islam. The saying is true: most of the time you forget what you learned from someone, but you never forget how they made you feel. Wasseem always made me feel great. If I was sad, he cheered me up; if I was lazy, he tore apart my excuses; and he kept every secret people shared with him. It wasn’t just me — he made everyone feel that way. A remarkable selflessness from someone who was being tested so severely.
The Friday night before he passed away, we were sitting in the room on the right side of the main musallah at Darul Islah — still Young Muslims Teaneck’s preferred spot to this day. After the halaqa, he mentioned that he had been driving again, a sign I took as evidence that his eyesight was improving. I was so happy for him that I turned away, shed a few tears where he couldn’t see, and quietly thanked Allah (SWT). We had all been worried about him, and about how he would live his life.
That weekend, he was going on a camping trip with some of the older guys from Young Muslims. I wrote about it at the time — something I rarely did.
”I remember before Waseem died I got to meet him. It was friday, as usual me and my brother go to YM. The 5th book in the Harry Potter series was to come out tomorrow. I remember that Ali Aslam left early so he could go with his sister to a Harry Potter party. Waseem told me and a couple of other people that he went driving. I was very happy to hear that he was finally driving again even if it was just a little bit. I remember that also left early to go to the movies with Fawad. That night I went to sleep. I woke up for Fajr and had a hard time sleeping after that. But somehow I did, one hour later, I awoke because I heard my brother’s friends, Excited/ Or in a rush for reasons I will never know. I proceeded to run towards the living room. The living room door was about to close. I said something along the lines of ‘Yeah, just wake up everyone in the house.’ Shoaib opened the door.. I proceeded to say salaam to everyone. Shoaib said ‘He is probably mad that he cant go’. I told everyone that wasn’t true and that I would be reading the next installment in the Harry Potter series. Shoaib went back inside the house to look for sandals. While Zafar asked ‘So how are you’. Waseem then said ‘If you came to last nights meeting (YM) you would know’. Waseem also mentioned that his sister would be getting Harry Potter also. I said my salaam to Waseem and that would be the last time I would see him in this life. I cried so much when I first heard that he died. But later that night, I found out that he died as a martyr in Allah (SWT)’s cause. This brought great comfort to me. I did not cry (as much) afterward because I thought it would be selfish. After all my friend got a one way ticket to heaven.”
Later that weekend, my parents received the news that Wasseem had drowned.
“Astaghfirullah” — sadness, anger, and grief all mixed on my father’s face. My parents retreated to their room, struggling with what they had just heard on the phone, and struggling to share it with my sister and me.
My heart felt like it sank to the bottom of my chest. The world became too heavy, and I could no longer stand. I collapsed into a nearby chair and held my head in grief. We had no idea what had happened. I cried myself to sleep that night, wishing and praying it was all some bad dream. But later that morning my brother woke me, apologizing over and over, crying too — “I’m so sorry.”
No Discernible Pattern
His Janaza was at ICPC. I can still see my brother and the rest of YM Teaneck up on that stage, crying over his body. My brother kept me from seeing him — but I was told he looked at peace, and that he was smiling.
That summer we buried Wasseem in Laurel Grove. I remember a young boy helping to drop dirt onto his grave. Three weeks later, I was burying that boy. His name was Yusuf Habbeh, and even though he was just a kid, he was always looking out for his siblings. His was one of the few Arab families attending Darul Islah at the time, and I remember seeing him there often. My last memory of him is at the water fountain — he was reaching for it, and I lifted him up so he could drink. Despite being so young, he carried a thick grown-man’s wallet, full of pictures of his family and younger siblings. He once gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever received: “If you want to talk to Allah (SWT), pray salah. If you want Allah (SWT) to talk to you, read Qur’an.” What young kid even speaks like that? Looking back, it’s clear Yusuf was never meant for this world.
I’ll let fifteen-year-old me tell the rest.
”It has been very long since I have written in this book. I came to the realization that many of memories are faded and distorted. I feel that this is a very important turning point in my life. Just a month ago things would be so different. But it seems all this summer holds for me is bad news. A great friend of mine, Waseem no longer exists in my world. I could list all the great things he has done for me and people in general but I will write about that later. Waseem passed away as a martyr in Allah (SWT)’s cause by drowning at Lake George. No one knows why he drowned, but one thing I know for sure is that he was the most physically fit. I miss him so much. It has been 3 weeks since he has passed away. I have no doubt in my mind that he went/or is going to heaven. Two of my friends Abdullah and Omar Jouejati left to Syria on July 4th. I have not had contact with them ever since. Not too long ago, I found out that this kid named Ysuuf was burned. He is currently in critical condition, Yusuf is the oldest of the families seven kids. I always liked this kid. He was very cool.”
”Life is short. Though I may not have realized it before, I have learned a lesson that is benefitting me. This summer is my year of sorrow. Just like when the Prophet (S) had his year of sorrow. Many people are leaving my life (Abdullah, Omar, Waseem, Yusuf, Kashif, Talha) (Some of these people were moving away from NJ). This summer feels like a giant barrier. A different life, a different universe, that started to occur on June 22th, 2003. I want to return to June 20th. But I know I cannot. But even the worst of times can bring out the best in a person. I believe I have become a better Muslim. I used to delay my salah thinking I would have a lot of time. Now I pray on time. I know that this life was not meant to be enjoyed. Allah (SWT) has created heaven for enjoyment. Heaven is the only place where I will see Waseem and Yusuf again. We are born to die. Let me quote Tolkien: I wish none of this had happened, so do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.”
”But lately, I have been getting mad at myself. I blocked Waseem online. It makes me so angry and frustrated. I noticed that for a while — maybe 2 months — I had not seen Waseem online. But I was instant messaged by a screen name ‘Webc47.’ Now this guy knew my name and knew a lot about me. But there was one problem. I didn’t know who he was. After bothering me a couple of times, I decided to block him. A day or two ago, I examined Waseem’s email address and it was something like Wecb@msn.com. Later I was setting up my buddy list when I noticed Webc47. How could I be so blind. That screen name stood for Waseem Beck. I blocked him for so long. That is why I never saw him online.”
To get a glimpse of that time, you can watch the YM promo below. Wasseem speaks around the five-minute mark.
If there has ever been a moment where you benefitted from me in any way — whether my actions were sincere or selfish — please make dua for Wasseem Beck. Wallahi, he is a man of Paradise, and his death set me on the path of giving back to others. I have never stopped remembering him or praying for him, and I hope that one day we will be reunited in another life, where we will laugh about all of this and more.
