I want to forget about the thousands of leaves that
have fallen. My years are reminiscent of
the past I dread. I have just two seconds to live and I don’t know how to
explain how it feels. I think I was born too soon, I grew up too fast, my mind
refused to think like my age mates.
Can I ever forget the death of my father? I was five
but my mind replays everything to me; the voices, the frustration, the screams,
the tears...then death. The look in my older brother’s eyes, he was eight. The tears
in my kid brother’s eyes, he was three. My mother. Before I die someone should
please show me my father’s tombstone, his grave... I’ve never set my eyes on
it, never.
I grew fond of my grandfather. The evening before he
died I was with him then I left, so did his soul the following morning. I remember
sitting in his porch crying, I had turned ten three days earlier. Could I wake
up from the dream? Could I tell myself that I will see my grandfather again and
drink tea with him as we used to do whilst the sun set, eat his leftovers,
watch him perform his prayers, go for eid prayers with him, ...the warmth of
his smile. I didn’t know I will ever stand by his grave with tears in my eyes.
My grandmother was full of energy. I used to say she
will live to see my children. The night I stood by her hospital bed watching
her breath heavily was a mike Tyson punch in my face. As everyone recited the
kalimah I stood watching my sweet grandmother fade away. I felt she wouldn’t
live through the night. I went out to the car park with my cousin. When we got
back up, the elevator door opened and we saw everyone down in tears. I cried
because I had observed that the dead never came back. I miss her insults, her love
for sprite because she drank it on her flight to Saudi Arabia, her tendency to
give, the way she laughed... all I get are tears in my eyes when those memories
evade my thoughts. I was sixteen.
I have been awake for way too long. The wind is
fading through time. With these two ambling seconds I’m lost. Should I spend it
in a mosque glorifying my Lord or I should spend it on the fading pleasures of
this world? It’s dark and the fly has nowhere else to perch than on my screen. Do
I kill it or do I watch it feel at home. I will be six feet down soon. The heat,
the solitude, the stench...who will be my friend? I thought as much, I have no
friends amongst you but I’m sure my good deeds will be company enough. Would you
then call me a bad friend if I spend more time on good deeds than on you? Whoever
is willing to be buried alive with me in that pit is my true friend. My good
deeds are willing to follow my corpse alive. A promise you can’t make even for
all the wealth in the world.
My vegetable garden at the graveyard, the cartons of
meat I kept at the mortuary, the red wine cellar at the hospital’s blood bank. I’m
alive! But I’m dead. I’m only twenty but I have just two seconds to live. Who is
ready to be buried alive with my corpse in two seconds? Who will dine with me?
