Eulogy

There’s something very unnatural about something as natural as death; you’d think human beings would get over the idea of dying instead of locking themselves up in a closet filled with self-pity, but after finally accepting my grandpa’s death, I realized death was life’s only protagonist. 

Why start a race you’re never going to finish? Might as well shoot yourself in the leg at the start line.  

My mom was unfortunate enough to be the one to find him like that in bed; imagine going to visit your parents after not seeing them for a year or two, just for one of them to pass away a few days into the whole thing. It’s one thing to find out that someone died, it’s a whole different thing when you’re the one to find them like that; it breaks your soul in half, especially if it’s my mom and jedo. 

Death always makes everyone feel like shit, but to my sister and I, it felt worse, we found out while flying back from our summer vacation in Portugal.  We weren’t even on the same flight, at first, after we got the call from mom, we honestly thought she was fucking with us, three seconds into what we thought was a sadistic joke, we realized jedo was gone. We had just seen him a few days ago in France, said bye to him, so sure we were going to see him again around Christmas or the year after. 

Talk about shitty timing, two days into our Portuguese getaway, jedo passed away and my mom was forced to put on a brave face to spare us for a short while. 

I never really saw jedo after that. During the funeral, teta made it a point to bring his body to the family house since he never really got to see it, but I couldn’t look at him. It wasn’t really jedo, my grandpa used to be alive, and this corpse wasn’t.

Jedo always had a lit cigarette between his fingers; this body had its arms tucked away. 

Jedo always laughed and ended them with loud coughs, this body just lied there, all silent and unresponsive, unfazed by the crying and wailing going on around it. 

Jedo always shared abstract Arabic proverbs with me, this body didn’t even bother making eye contact. 

To me, the last time Jedo was Jedo was when he was waving goodbye to my sister and I at the airport. I should’ve known better, I should’ve complimented how shiny his shoes always were, how well he dressed, how well he combed his hair every single morning, how thankful I am for having him as my grandpa, how thankful I am for him raising my mom and aunt when they weren’t his children, how thankful I am for tolerating my fuck you attitude that one winter when I stayed with them. 

I never realized I’d miss his scent. Teta had decided to bring all of jedo’s stuff with her to Lebanon to give them away; she always said, “fi ness binemo bala tyeb w akel”. Regardless of whether or not his soul still clinged on to his things, teta had set her mind to giving everything away. 

Thankfully, my mom and I were there to see it all happen, and while the whole thing was happening, I was nosey enough to rummage through the luggage and see what jedo had all packed up in his closets. 

And there it was, that black, hoodless jacket he always wore, rain or shine; he’d have it on, nagging about how the weather’s horrible and how much he hates the rain – no umbrella in hand, of course. 

Teta did not want me to have it, saying, “3ando jekatet, fi ness ma 3anda shi ya Lina”. I’d always send my mom to talk to teta about these things, seeing that everyone knows teta has a special place in her heart for my mom, her eldest daughter – even though she’ll deny it and say she loves all her children the same – we know better. 

Finally, teta gave in, came over to me, handed me the jacket, and told me to make sure to wear it “la2an de3an”.

I know that jacket wasn’t jedo, that jacket hadn’t seen its owner for about a year or two, but it smelled like him. 

Four years after his death, whenever I wear that jacket, I can smell his scent, even after sticking it into a closet with all my clothes, I can still smell my grandparents’ house in Marseille. 

He used to tell me, “Kol 3a zaw2ak w lbos 3a zo2 il ness” – I’m going to dress myself 3a zaw2ak this winter, jedo.