When I received my first paycheck at the age of 23, my father said to me:
"Every month, transfer 100 to me."
I asked, "Why, Dad?"
He replied, "For your upbringing."
I laughed, but he didn't.
From that day on, every 27th of the month—when my salary arrived—I would transfer 100 to him, noting in the transaction reference:
"For your upbringing."
And every single time, he would reply:
"Received. May God provide for you."
He never added another word.
I kept sending it when I was single.
I sent it the month I got married, even with debts weighing me down.
I sent it the month my son was born, when I had only 140 left in my account.
My wife would ask, "Your father is retired and owns his own home; what does he need 100 for?"
My friends would joke, "Has your father imposed a tax on you?"
I would simply say, "That’s just how my father is; he has his own ways."
Once, I was a day late.
At 7:00 AM, he called and asked, "Is everything alright?"
I sent the money, laughing to myself, thinking, "He really is meticulous about money."
This went on for 12 years.
Three months ago, the company let me go.
I didn't tell anyone—not even my wife.
Every day, I would put on my *thobe*, leave at 7:00 AM, and sit in my car near a coffee shop until noon, then return home as if I were coming back from work.
Then came the 27th… and no salary arrived.
For the first time in 12 years, I didn't send anything to my father. After dinner, my phone rang.
He said:
"Nothing arrived."
I replied:
"I forgot, Dad—tomorrow, God willing."
He was silent for a moment, then said:
"Come over now—just you."
I entered the *majlis* and found him sitting there, with an old notebook and an envelope in front of him.
He slid the notebook toward me and said:
"Open it."
Every line contained a date, the amount "100," and my name.
Next to each entry, he had noted where the money went:
"Water cooler," "Sponsorship of an orphan," "Ramadan food basket," "Providing water for laborers."
144 entries in total.
He said:
"Not a single riyal of your money ever went into my own pocket."
He handed me his phone, which showed a picture of a water cooler outside a mosque. A small plaque on it read:
"An act of charity (*sadaqah*) on behalf of my son—may God protect him."
I recognized it immediately.
It was the very same water cooler by the mosque near my workplace—the one I used to drink from every single afternoon.
For years, I had been drinking from the charity my father had given on my behalf, without ever knowing it.
Then, he slid the envelope toward me and said:
"And this is from me."
I opened it and found 72,000 inside.
He explained:
"Ever since you received your first paycheck, I’ve been setting aside 500 every month."
"I knew a day would come when nothing would arrive from you—and that, on that day, you would be in need of me."
I asked:
"Dad, how did you know?"
He replied:
"For 12 years, you never missed a payment—except for today. I didn't need anyone to tell me."
I couldn't find the words to speak.
He added:
"I never had any desire for that 100 in the first place." "I just wanted to know, every month, that you were doing okay—without having to ask you, only for you to tell me, 'I’m fine,' when you really weren’t."
Two months later, I found a job.
On the 27th—the day I received my first paycheck—I sent him 100 [units of currency] and wrote:
"For the upbringing."
He replied:
"Received. May God bless you with abundance."
A minute later, for the very first time, a second message arrived from him:
"And never keep things from me again."
—This story carries a lesson, though few will truly grasp it…!!
O Lord, forgive me, my parents, and all believing men and women—both the living and the dead—among the Muslims.
