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My paternal grandmother was my greatest ally in the early days of my journey along this path. Perhaps she thought I was also hers, for she was a strict Methodist who saw similarities in my way of life to hers. In any case, she was my advocate and defender then, while my relationship with the rest of my family was difficult and strained.

When, several months after embracing the deen, I meekly told her that I was a Muslim, she simply replied with a smile: “Oh, I’ve known that for ages. You don’t need to worry about me.” She went on to tell me that growing up she had always been warned about Jews and Catholics, but when she finally met some, they were the loveliest people she had ever known. She was wise enough, she told me, not to be swayed by other people’s prejudices.

At family gatherings in restaurants, she would always insist on me sitting at her side, so she could engage in intelligent conversation — a rather unfair declaration, as I was the least learned member of the family, but that was her way. When I eventually announced that I was getting married, she was the first to support us too. While others attempted to dissuade us from proceeding so quickly, she was there egging us on. She was probably thinking to herself, “It’s about time.”

Though she was in her 80s by then, she insisted on travelling down by train on her own to attend our marriage, installing herself in a hotel in Acton the night before. We had planned for her to meet my bride-to-be that evening, but our rendezvous was made complicated because the Real IRA had just blown up a pub on Ealing Broadway, causing total chaos all around. Still, that did not stop her, and the meeting went ahead as planned, only a little delayed.

At our marriage the following day, she was a rock to me, making herself my supporter once more. At the registry office, she was all smiles, where others only frowned as if they were attending a funeral. At our nikah in the grand Turkish mosque in East London that afternoon, she expressed great interest in the architecture, marvelling at the decorative tiles and calligraphy, making a Turkish-Cypriot friend her tour guide.

I was even more touched when, a month later, she returned for my walima, travelling down by train once more, but this time bringing my aunt and cousin. So keenly would she participate in that great Turkish tradition of pinning gold to the bride and money to the groom: indeed, I think she pinned a wad of cash to my lapel. After that day, and for years afterwards, my brothers in faith would always, always ask after my grandmother, especially about her health and wellbeing.

It’s important to have allies. She was ours in the most active manner possible. She loved by wife, and my wife loved her; they were kindred spirits. I have a good feeling about her end. Only God knows, but perhaps she was amongst those acknowledged by our Book thus:

But they are not all alike. There are some among the People of the Book who are upright, who recite God’s revelations during the night, who bow down in worship, who believe in God and the Last Day, who order what is right and forbid what is wrong, who are quick to do good deeds. These people are among the righteous and they will not be denied the reward for whatever good deeds they do: God knows exactly who is conscious of Him.

Quran 113-5