Near, Yet So Far: When Distance Is Measured by Hearts, Not Miles

I was born in Pakistan, migrated to America at the age of six, raised in the rhythm of American life, and later married in the UK. My life has unfolded across continents, cultures, and communities. Through all these transitions, one truth has quietly followed me: distance is not measured by miles—it is measured by hearts.

In Brierfield, people live near one another. Homes are close, shops familiar, faces recognizable. And yet, I often feel a strange emotional distance—an unspoken gap between hearts. I wonder why. Perhaps it is because when many desis live together, we assume closeness will happen naturally. We think proximity replaces intention. We forget that relationships, like gardens, still need tending.

In America, my family lived hours apart—sometimes states away. Yet we visited one another monthly, even weekly when we could. Distance required effort, and effort created sincerity. Visits were planned with longing. Phone calls carried weight. Time together was cherished because it was not taken for granted.

Islam teaches us that bonds are acts of worship. Maintaining family ties is not optional—it is sacred. The Prophet ﷺ warned against severing relationships and promised immense reward for those who keep them, even when it is difficult. Islam does not ask us merely to live near one another; it asks us to care for one another.

I see this most clearly in my relationship with my mother. My sister and I live far from her in miles, yet we are deeply connected in heart. Her presence is constant in our du‘ā, our decisions, our daily conversations. We may not sit beside her every day, but we carry her with us everywhere. Meanwhile, I have seen people live minutes away from their parents yet remain emotionally distant—rarely visiting, rarely checking in, assuming time will always be there.

As a Muslim woman shaped by multiple worlds, I have learned that culture alone does not create closeness. Shared language does not guarantee warmth. What builds connection is humility, intention, and mercy—qualities the Qur’an constantly calls us toward.

In some communities, pride becomes a barrier. In others, busyness replaces care. Sometimes comparison, gossip, or unhealed wounds quietly push hearts apart. And sometimes we simply forget that the neighbor next door may still need a smile, a salaam, a sincere question: How are you really?

Allah looks not at our addresses, but at our hearts. He knows who we make space for, who we remember, who we forgive, and who we reach for—even when it is inconvenient.

Nearness is a choice. Love is an action. And true closeness, I have learned across Pakistan, America, and the UK, is built not by geography, but by intention for the sake of Allah.

May we be people whose hearts draw near, even when our lives are scattered across the map. May we never confuse physical closeness with emotional presence. And may we remember that in Islam, the shortest distance between two souls is sincerity.