A Visit to Paradise.. A Short Story by Saber Elganzouri

In “A Visit to Paradise,” Saber Elganzouri presents a tender short story about a child’s bond with his grandfather, and the invisible thread that continues to connect loved ones even after death. The story does not treat loss as a harsh ending, but opens it onto a space of spiritual reassurance, where grief becomes a luminous journey into a world of peace, beauty, and reunion.

Blending childhood memory, family tenderness, and a quiet sense of faith, the story moves between sorrow and wonder with a simple yet deeply emotional voice. Through a dreamlike narrative, it raises a profoundly human question: do those we love truly disappear, or do they remain with us in memory, innocence, and in the faces of the children who bring them back to life?

A Visit to Paradise

I loved my grandfather very much. He used to pray, and I would stand beside him. When he finished his prayer, he would pull me to his chest, take my small hand, and kiss it.

His image has never left me: his Azharite turban, his robe, his caftan, and his fair, rosy face. He never parted from the Quran, and the Quran never parted from him. I can still see him reading, reciting, and teaching children. Sheikhs would come to read before him, and he would correct their recitation.

In the moments of his passing, I remember the dawn call to prayer in his gentle voice, and the last verse he read before his soul rose to the sky.

I stood watching the washing ritual, when they placed him on a wooden table. His lips were smiling, as if he could see things we could not. They wrapped him in the white shroud, tied the bands around his waist and feet, covered his face, recited Al-Fatiha, placed him in a wooden coffin, and we went with him to the mosque to pray over him.

Then came the moment of farewell, and the tears trapped in my eyes began to fall. Amid the takbeer and prayers, I went down with the gravedigger into the grave.

Moments passed like an eternity. I opened my eyes, and everything around me was darkness. I screamed and climbed the small steps, searching for the opening they had sealed with bricks, mud, and straw.

All my attempts—screaming and striking the blocked wall—were lost.

I went back to him and rested my small head on his chest.

“Come on, Grandfather, get me out of here. My father, my mother, my brothers and sisters will look for me.”

I felt something moving in his body. His hands came out of the cloth. He rose, tore the ties, and removed the cotton pieces from over his eyes. His face became a bright moon, dispelling the darkness around us.

He calmed my fear and said:

“Do not be afraid.”

The shroud turned into ihram clothing. He wrapped it around his body, and I stood up with him.

I laughed. Peace and comfort filled me.

He said, “Come!”

“Where to?”

“To my palace and my garden.”

“You have a palace and a garden here?”

“You will see everything.”

A vast space opened before us. Shady trees with no shadows. A paved road. Gardens of flowers in marvelous colors and a fragrance spreading through the air.

On both sides of the road stood people whose faces were made of light, greeting him. They waved to him, and he waved back. He praised God, glorified Him, and repeated the call to prayer.

We reached his palace in the middle of the wide green land. I cried out:

“I am hungry.”

He said:

“Whatever food your soul desires will come at once.”

On a golden table, there was the fruit I had wished for, grilled meat, and drinks in silver pitchers.

Everything around me was made of gold, silver, and precious stones. I ate eagerly, until I was full and my thirst was quenched.

I asked him:

“Where is my grandmother?”

He said:

“Look there. There she is in front of you.”

I ran toward her. She took me into her arms, kissed me, and said:

“You are precious, and the son of the precious.”

There was a radiance in her face, like a full moon.

She asked me:

“Do you want to stay with us, or return to your father and mother?”

My words stumbled, and I said:

“The food here has no equal. Everything here is beautiful.”

My grandmother laughed and said:

“You little rascal. You want your father and mother.”

My grandfather said:

“I will take you back, but do not tell anyone what you have seen and heard.”

On my bed in my room, I found my mother, father, and siblings around me. They were asking anxiously:

“Where were you? We searched everywhere for you. We thought you had been kidnapped.”

“I was…” I could not finish my sentence. I saw him standing there, smiling, while no one else could see him. He had forbidden me to speak.

Now I have reached the age my grandfather was when he went to his other world.

I look at the innocent face of my little grandson, and I think of taking him with me on a visit to my grandfather.