Peace be upon you, my Maula.

What was it like to held in the arms of the Messenger of God صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم as a baby?

What was it like to live every day in the house of Sayyida Khadija as a young boy?

What was it like to declare your allegiance to Islam at the gathering of all your uncles who rejected it and for the Messenger to declare your unique role in upholding the truth after him?

What was it like to pray to Allah with just the Messenger of Allah and Sayyida Khadija as the congregation?

What was it like to live under the sanctions placed upon the Banu Hashim for three years?

What was it like when your father and cousin-in-law died and you experienced “the year of sadness” alongside your older cousin?

What was it like when you slept in his bed, knowing you might be killed, so that he could escape an assassination attempt?

What was it like when you arrived in a new city where you had never lived and when he made every man become the brother of another man, he declared that you were his brother?

What was it like when you went to war for the first time on behalf of Allah and became a warrior hero on that day?

What was it like to pray every day in Madinah behind the Messenger of God?

What was it to be so trusted by him that he married you to his daughter about whom he said “what angers her, angers me”?

What was it like to be blessed with his grandchildren whom he declared to be from the leaders of Jannah?

What was it like to win battle after battle and know the Qur’an better than anyone other than the Messenger himself?

What was it like to be placed in charge of Madinah and the Messenger – the man in whose presence you had lived out your entire life – says that you were his Hārūn, just as Mūsā had gone off and left him in charge so many centuries before?

And what was it like, my Maula, to stand before all those who had just completed the Hajj under the leadership of your maula, and him to hold your hand up high and say to them all:

man kuntu maulāhu fa hādhā ‘Alīyun maulāhu

Because I do not really know.

The stories are enough to make me love you and your resting place was enough to break open my heart and cause tears to gush from my eyes but I will not stop until I can hear your voice and see your face and embrace you, and become part of your story as one of your Shī’a.

So may God bless you and your family and grant you peace, on the day of Ghadeer and forevermore.