I’ve written a few books in my life.
But every time I approach the final chapter — I pause.
Not because I don’t know what to write.
But because finishing is often harder than starting.
The last lap of a long project feels like walking through sand with weights on your feet.
You're not sprinting anymore. You're dragging.
And yet, finishing is where the real transformation happens.
When I worked on Grieving with God, both versions, it wasn’t like I started from scratch.
I had years of notes. Moments jotted down. Lessons collected from conversations, coaching sessions, and private journaling.
But even with all that groundwork laid…
The final edits? The layout reviews? The back-and-forth with printers and designers?
That’s the part that tests you.
There’s something deeply spiritual about the final stretch of a meaningful task.
It reveals what you’re made of — not at your peak energy, but at your lowest motivation.
If you're in academia, you know what I mean.
Ask anyone writing a Master’s thesis or a PhD dissertation.
Terms like “analysis paralysis,” “supervisor silence,” and “revision fatigue” are part of the vocabulary.
You live off coffee and imposter syndrome.
You want it to be over… but also perfect.
And the closer you are to submission, the more your brain tries to sabotage you.
I’ve watched close friends spend three years writing — and another two trying to find the courage to finish.
It’s not about capability. It’s about capacity.
The mental and emotional space to see something through.
But let’s be real.
It’s not just students or writers.
If you're an accountant, April and October are your battlefield. Month-end closings, tax filings, frantic client calls. You age ten years in two months. But the relief after — that deep exhale — makes it worth it.
If you're a teacher, it’s the exam season. Admin duties, marking papers, planning next term. And yet, when one of your students thanks you for changing their life… you remember why you started.
If you're an architect, it’s the years between concept and completion. Rejected proposals. Construction delays. Budget changes. But then, one day, you drive past a building and say: I helped build that.
We all chase the same thing:
To finish.
To witness the fruit of our labour.
To know we didn’t quit midway.
And in our faith?
The Qur’an reminds us:
“And say, ‘Do [your deeds], for Allah will see your actions…’”
(Surah At-Tawbah, 9:105)
Not your dreams. Not your goals.
Your actions.
Your follow-through.
Even in acts of worship like Hajj or fasting in Ramadan —
the reward lies in completing the ritual.
Not just in the intent, but the perseverance.
In Arabic, the word إتمام (completion) carries weight.
It implies wholeness. Fulfilment. No loose ends.
Because Allah honours those who stay the course.
But we live in the age of dopamine.
Instant likes. Quick wins. Fast food.
Everything pushes us to chase the “new” — but abandon the “not-yet-done.”
If you’re struggling to finish something, I understand.
And here’s what’s helped me:
1. See the end before you arrive.
Close your eyes. Picture the moment it’s done. Feel it. Own it. Breathe it ALL in. Let that mental image pull you through, step by step.
2. Lower the bar… for effort, not excellence.
You don’t need to feel motivated. You just need to move. One small action a day.
Progress over perfection. One day at a time.
3. Have a start-of-day ritual.
Mine is coffee + listening to the Quran and/or a podcast. Yours could be journaling, silence, a walk to clear your mind. Start the day with a strong niyyah—and purpose.
It fuels everything.
4. Build what you’d be proud of — even if no one sees it.
Because integrity shows in the last 10% of a project.
And Allah sees everything, even when no one else does.
We’re not here to start a hundred things.
We’re here to complete the few that truly matter.
And if you’re still in the middle?
You’re not lost.
You’re building.
Keep going.









Here’s short du’a for you who may be in the middle of something hard:
Ya Allah, grant us the strength to finish what we started.
Let our efforts be sincere. Our work be meaningful.
And our endings be better than our beginnings. Ameen.
You’ve got this!
One day, you’ll look back at this moment… and be proud you didn’t quit.
Your forever silent supporter,
Mizi Wahid