A message to my son

Son,

On July 29, 2008, my father passed away. The day before, on Monday, July 28, I spent the entire day with him. We were together with many relatives celebrating my cousin’s wedding. I remember a conversation with him vividly. I asked how he could allow my uncle, his younger brother, to treat him poorly. I told my uncle, “He’s only four years older than you, so don’t cave in That sparked an argument between them, one that lasted from the wedding all the way back to my father’s house.

That night, I had a strong feeling that I shouldn’t leave. I didn’t want to go to Beirut, but my father insisted. He asked me to take my uncle home in Beirut — the same house I had taken you to once before. So, I went. The next day, I was playing with Nadine and with you when I got the phone call. Your mother drove us to Baalbeck. By the time we arrived, I had already arranged everything for the funeral on the way there. I remember people crying and hugging me, including your mother that i never saw her cry like that before.

I have so many memories of my father — both good and painful ones. I recall one time he accidentally damaged my car. He looked so regretful that it hurt me deeply. I kissed his hand and begged him not to feel bad. When he passed, I had to wait for my brothers to arrive from abroad. For days, I didn’t have the courage to see him in the hospital freezer. When my brothers finally went, I followed, but the moment I saw him, I fainted. He was gone.

Dear Son,

I need you to know how much I love you. But I also know that I will likely never see you before I die, on the day I die, or even you will be there afterward. You made that clear a year ago you declared me dead and People don’t die twice, You have hurt me so deeply that my entire body aches. I have cried because of you more times than I can count. Still, no matter what, I love you.

father,