Hi Baba.
What can I say?
Last year I said this year's birthday letter will be better. That it had to be.
How could I have known all that would happen in a year... All that could happen?
If there ever was a year so surreal, it was this one.
But I don't need to tell you myself do I?
She's already told you herself, Mama.
She's with you now. And she's told you so many things, I can imagine.
About Laith, about Zayn, about me. About my life since you've been gone...
I don't imagine she told you how she suddenly got sick.
How in a blink of two months, she went from her usual self, spinning like a top, to unconcious in an ICU bed, hooked to 11 different tubes and machines.
I know they're 11, because I counted them. Over and over.
I don't imagine she's told you, because it probably would have hurt you to know. And hurt her to recall and recount. Just like it hurts me so much right now, nearly 7 months later.
I didn't know how I was going to write this letter this year.
Part of my wanted to skip it, the other was wondering whether or not I should start addressing it to you both.
I have gone through so much in this year, so many different events. From Zayn's birth, to Mama's death, and everything that could happen between birth and death.
Hardships I never imagined I'd experience. I know, I sound like I'm wallowing. Perhaps to a degree I am.
It feels so empty without both of you now.
I know I have my own little family, I am grateful oh so grateful, they are my raison d'etre.
But I don't have you and Mama anymore. And that is so incredibly heavy and sad. An invisible weight that hangs above me, and like a cloud can intensify or lift in a blink of an eye, or a sudden nostalgic moment.
I had the arduous and heart-wrenching chore of having to go and clear out our home, the home you've known since the 70's, the one I've known since the 90's, and the one Mama left at the end of 2021, without a clue that it would be the last time she saw it. I flew in from Cyprus, where we now are starting our lives over, after the disaster that was life in Lebanon for the past few years.
I was grateful to have friends who helped, and perhaps lightened the load. But I had moments of mourning, where I felt my whole life swirl and circle around me in that house, as I sat and cried. Images of us all, moments in the house, soundbites of "Ya hayati", "Shou ya Ghandoura?", "Hi Karina!", flooding all my senses. Perhaps this is what it is to have your life flash before your eyes. After all, this is a death of sorts. The death of my life with you both. A chapter closing, a full stop. The house started to feel more like a mausoleum. Not warm or welcoming. Just stuck in time, and full of sadness, and loss.
I found so many things that Mama kept. Notes you left her, written hurriedly on scrap card. A message to tell her you went ahead of her to the medical lab, and a message telling her you love her. Mama kept everything. You kept everything Mama...
And then I found the writings to you... What a love you had from Mama.. What a deep devotion. So much anguish and sadness at your loss. We all had it, but seeing and reading those words... I understood so much more the depth of her sadness. Almost endless. Perhaps it was until Laith came along.. Oh Laith. Laith and his Teta Tata. The invincible duo. The forever friends. Laith, Laith, Laith....
And she got to see Zayn. As she told me before things got bad, sitting at Sift in Badaro, a day before her PET Scan: "If this turns out to be the thing we don't want it to be, I'm content, I saw you become a mother and met my grandchildren. Not everyone gets to do so before they go." And she flashed a sad smile, one choked with emotion, but a smile nonetheless...
When it turned out to be the worse case scenario, all our fears confirmed, all I could think of was I didn't want her to suffer. I was not ready to lose her, but I didn't want her to suffer.
She told me "Mohamad used to say, (about health) everything but your breath! Everything but that!" And it was her breath that was slowly but surely going.
The days at the hospital were hard. I don't really want to talk about them any more than just say I sat with her all I could, whether she was awake, or sedated. I held her hand, kissed her brow, told her all the things I wanted her to know. I apologised for all the hurt I caused her over the years. And in all her grace she would wave it away, like the arguments and fights between us didn't matter at all. Perhaps because they really didn't... All that mattered was the love we had. The spoken and unspoken.
I loved her more than she could've imagined. I loved you Mama, more than you could've imagined. I love you Mama. I love you, I love you, I love you.
But the book of you both does not finish, does it? Just the chapter. And I carry you both with me now all the time, just as Mama kept you with her so fervently, in every detail in that house.
Across the new pages I turn, I keep you alive in my mind, and in my heart, and with my words to Laith and Zayn.
Zayn, poor Zayn hasn't gotten much time in this letter... All I can say is Mama you were right. He is Angelic, and he is truly a gift to me, given at just the right time. Two-fold now, I owe my life to my boys.
Mama, you were such a force. You both were. What a human being you were, you are.
Your loss has echoed and rippled through every person who knew you, whether they be old childhood friends, or young neighbours you spent time with the last few years.
(I hope you could hear Fairuz and Ziad when I asked them to play them for you...I felt so helpless)
There is no point in regretting now. It hurts for no reason, and you would not want me to.
But I understand more now, I see you more now.
And I will keep you with me. Both of you. The best way I can, in all its lacking. I will hold on to your coat, as I did as a child. To your celestial trails.
I could write so much more, and a lot more about the pain and the loneliness. About the loss, the great great loss. I could write on, and on, and on. But I don't want to. The pain is too great, and there is no reason to dredge it up for myself. I am so fragile at times already, and I can't afford to break. I bend, but I can't break.
Watch over us, the kids, Saadi (he needs you too, you know)
I love you both.
Happy birthday Baba, a little less lonely for you this year...
Mama. 3omri. Teta Tata. We'll be ok. I have you in my mind...
B7ibkon,
اد البحر و موجاتو، العصافير و غنياتا، السما وغيماتا
Bintkon,
Karina, Mishmosh, Ghandoura, Im Laith,
Karma.
