Basboy’s Weblog

It has been a little more than three weeks since I have come back from Amman via Doha. It was quite a short visit to Amman at only 4 days long, and it only was possible because my father had a previously scheduled conference to attend there. Yet, because of my knowledge of the city, our apartment, and the fact that I have a good amount of relatives there, the time was pretty well-spent and thus quite enjoyable.

Of course, an important priority while there was to see Jiddo Shaaban. I had seen him since our similarly brief visit to the city in January of 2008 and, having heard of recent health complications that he had endured, I wanted desperately to be reassured that he is doing well. On my second full day, I finally found my opportunity to go there while my father and Khalo Sulaiman were visiting, as I was aprehensive about seeing him by my lonesome. What if he were to have forgotten me, or if I were to have reminded himof my adolescent self with whom he had always found much to criticize (as I was a bit too stubborn for my own good)?

I was needlessly worried. He was ecstatic to see me, if I may say so myself, and his smile never left his face the entirety of my all-to-short visit there. I knew that he would have been happy to see any of the many family members that he had lost touch with in recent history, and that part of his enthusiasm at seeing me was because I was there representing, for better or worse, my mother and his oldest daughter… but as I said goodbye and he drew me close saying, “can’t you stay and eat dinner with me”, I felt a great and personal guilt at withdrawing my presence at a time that it made him happy. As he kissed me for the what seems like the thousandth time on either cheek, I resolved to myself to come back at earlier time the next day.

At noon that next day, a Thursday, I walked from our apartment to the nearest bakery in Suwaifiyah to get some fatayir, in order that we may have that meal that I had rejected the previous day due to my engagement at Khalo’s home, and then took a taxi to his home. At my arrival, he was pleasantly surprised to see me, but rejected my offering saying that he does not eat lunch. I, of course, already knew that about him, but I had hoped that he would go against that habit in my honor… because I am rediculous. This lead to this exchange, which I took with my portable HD camcorder:

Jiddo with stupid me (May 7, 2009) (right-click on it and choose “Save Link As” to have the actual file in your harddrive)

I apologize for my abrasive voice and mannerisms, but this is what would happen when I drop my guard and feel free to be myself with Jiddo. At any rate, I found myself enjoying the sit close to my only remaining grandfather, he whom had known my faults but chose to love me despite them. We sat watching various clips from the arabic movie channels at his disposal from his satelite receiver. I laughed with him at the plots, and the acting of certain female starlets, and we discussed his day and how he had spoken to my mother that morning- or was it the night before? He was extremely jovial throughout, and I felt that I have reconnected with a grandfather that I have not had a meaningful conversation  for more than three years. There was always the distance between us, or the more similarly eloquent elder generation in the room to say more than pleasantries to each other. I left more than an hour later, and only because I had some chores to run and an appointment, of sorts, to meet with my cousins. He was more accepting of my departure this time, though only after I had promised that I would see him before flying out the next day amid his many kisses.

And so I went to see my grandfather for the last time that Friday, accompanied by my father. We had brought him a tin of sweets, and sat briefly with him before leaving for Jumu3a prayer and then the airport. He was in a pleasant, but more reserved mood, he was happy to see me and my father, but would fumble through some questions that my father would ask him about his contact with other family members, and I must admit to being uncomfortable at that. We left on our way not knowing that it would be less than 2 weeks, indeed 12 days, that he would leave us all.

Receiving the news of his death on the night of Wednesday, May the 20th, while here in Mississauga, Canada, I was shocked; cliched though that may sound. I did not expect this news, not because, as one of my cousins would note, he seemed to me to be one who would never die. No, I thought I was realistic about his mortality, but I thought him to be quite in  touch with life at our last meetings. It was a given that my mother would see him in the middle of July, following the 2 family weddings taking place that month, and it would be a happy summer for her. We have all lost a wonderful man, but we cannot let the sadness be all we feel, though it be at first quite unbearable. It was too painful for me to write about it at first, and I knew that it would be therapeutic to say anything in order to finalize it in my head, however simple it is that I write may be.

We have to remember the witty and charming man who had a lot to give, but may not have had the best audience at all times! These are two clips taken by my sister Asma 3 years ago, using her digital camera. The quality is fair, considering the source, and it shows the man as we all, I’m sure, would like to remember him:

“father will come to thee soon” (Aug 2, 2006)

explaining Ahmad Showqi (Aug 8, 2006)

I love you Jiddo. Allah yr7amak, and reward you for the suffering you felt in your lifetime.