While Teta Was Away...

I wrote the note below on Wednesday, November 3rd, 2011 at the American University Hospital in Beirut.


"Teta is probably lying down for the last time before she departs to another place. I am scared. Is it because I am writing a film about life and death? But I am not rejecting death in my film. I am simply trying to rejoice life. I miss my baby. At these moments I feel so weak and I so hope we could be together. Teta is sleeping. I wonder where she is now. What is she thinking and feeling. Several people have gathered in this CCU. Coronary Care Unit. Some are happy and conversing as if nothing is wrong. They are probably trying to distract themselves. Or I thought they thought someone was in a very bad situation but they found out they'll be ok. And now I am thinking the angel of death sometimes is too busy. He says keep this person in the hospital I will come for them later. And now he's gonna pass by. Maybe he's dressed as a hospital worker. Maybe as a doctor. I don't know. Maybe I can't see him because I am human and he is an angel. This is so bizarre."


Teta passed away on Thursday, November 4th, 2011 at the American University Hospital in Beirut.

A Leaf in the Wind

In the darkness, where knowledge fades, and the human mind sinks, my Grandma became a piece of paper hanging on the walls.
She then became a piece of paper that the wind left dangling on the walls of buildings. Then some kids wiped the papers away. Tore them apart. Threw them on the floor and stepped on them.

In the darkness, with the sun shining, I walked up the street towards Teta's house and asked her, "where are you now?" and no one answered. What did you do? Did you leave to a better place and leave us in this shit hole? You broke Jiddi's heart. His sadness is so intense I can hear it over the phone. You ruined our Eid.

In the darkness, in the bit where anger lives, I am mad at you and happy for you. I am happy because you deserve the rest that you finally set for. And I am mad because you left my mother and my grandfather. And now he is like an orphaned kid. He cries all the time and says you were snatched away from him all of a sudden. He probably wanted to say some things to you. What things are left unsaid to those who leave? And what would a person who is leaving say? To those we love, we say I love you. And to those we don't, we say nothing is worth it.

In the darkness, I meditate. Somebody asked if Aunt Soad doesn't talk anymore. "To say what?" I replied in silence. "To say what? You idiot." I told her without speaking. Live your life in silence and DO. It is better a thousand times.