How should we celebrate the birthdays of those who have departed this world? How do we keep their memory alive in hearts shattered by their absence? If I were a child, I would bring a piece of cake, hide it until midnight, and share it with the birthday (x) friend. If I were a teenager, I’d sneak my sister’s beautiful friend’s number from her phone, so that we could call her in celebration… A celebration that would make us feel older, as if we were finally running our own lives, away from the watchful eyes of family. I would have done anything, reckless and thoughtless because I wasn’t responsible for life yet. My decisions carried no weight and had no consequences. But now, everything is different… Now, I am responsible for everything. Even for the laughter of the neighborhood kids who wake me up, leaving me bitter at everything… even on the sandy street they play on.
Where do the well-wishes for the birthday celebrant go? Where do our hopes go, O God? Where do our prayers go; the ones that plead with You to keep our loved ones in this world with us? Where do we turn, O God, from the weight of Your silence, from the heartbreak of unanswered prayers? Where do we take our hopes that faded over the passing years, now impossible to fulfill after their departure? Where do we go with our lives, now scattered and alone, standing face-to-face with the plague of forgetting that gnaws at the hearts of people here? A plague born from the abundance of death in our land… a mechanism that keeps our hearts from bursting with grief over those who have left us, even though we know this mechanism will betray our memories, pushing the pain into the background.
Today is my friend Yousef’s Birthday. There was a time when I was terrified of forgetting this day, afraid of failing him! Afraid of being unjust to his memory. This day, once a cause for celebration, has now become a day when we flee from our sorrowful hearts, a day painted in colors that no longer resemble us. We hide behind this false vibrancy, hoping to shield our tear-laden eyes from spilling over, afraid that our grief might infect another fragile heart, one that cannot bear the weight of separation.
Forever Alive and Unforgotten, Yousef
Baha’ Raouf
July 6, 2024
