A few days after this incident Amina decided to return home.

It was the fourth or fifth day in the desert, on their way back to Mecca, when Amina suddenly fell sick with fever. Her temperature would rise to a point where she’d almost lose consciousness and then it would fall and she’d temporarily feel better again before the next attack. 

They were hardly able to make it to a nearby village called Abwa under these conditions. Amina’s seizures were growing stronger and more frequent. Our master, who was only six at the time, was deeply grieved by this painful situation. He didn’t want to leave his mother’s side not even for a moment. Sometimes they would force him to get some air but he would immediately return to her side. 

Finally, her condition reached its final stage. In her last moments, with great difficulty she turned her head towards her son and said:

“Every form of life will die; every new thing will grow old. I have filled my time here and I too shall die. If what Allah showed me in my dream is true, you will indeed become the Rasul… How honored I am that Allah made me have a son like you… I shall die but Allah is Eternal! Just as He created you, He will also raise you!”

Her voice became more and more frail, her eyelids grew heavier until finally with her last breath she closed her eyes and dropped her head to the side…

Our Master was now both a fatherless and a motherless orphan…He had lost his father before he was born, and now at only 6, he witnessed the passing of his dear mother… 

The next day, after Amina’s burial took place at the village of Abwa, Muhammad and his nanny Ummu Aiman set off to Mecca. Umma Aiman wasn’t much older herself to travel in the desert with a child, still with the aid of Allah they were able to make it to Mecca safe and sound. After five days of journeying through the desert they were finally home. 

When Abdulmuttalib saw them, his face became pale. Clearly something bad had happened! 

“What is the matter O Ummu Aiman, do you bear bad news?”

Muhammad ran to his grandfather unable to hold his tears for any longer as Ummu Aiman tried to explain the situation against her uncontrollable flow of tears…

Abdulmuttalib pressed his grandson to his chest and hugged him tighter as tears rolled down his eyes…

“My baby, my precious grandson… First you lost your father, and now you lost your mother… My darling, my unfortunate child…”

They were all crying in grief.