My kids are growing up and I'm scared

I just finished the story "Guidance comes sideways" and I keep thinking about how small things hold us. I write from a crowded Jakarta house where Ramadan smells of coconut curry and the quiet sweetness of fajr is the only time I get for myself. My children laugh in two languages, sleep with phones on, and sometimes answer salaam with a sticker. I lie awake worrying they will lose the language I whisper to them, the little prayers I grew up with, the deen that used to anchor me. How do you live with that worry without turning every moment into a lesson? Has anyone else felt this slow, sinking fear?