A Syrian Father Death
My Father:
We may not shower him with praise Nor mention his name in song, And sometimes it seems that we forget
The joy that he spreads as he goes along, But it doesn't mean that we don't know The wonderful role that he has had. And away down deep in every heart There's a place that is just for Dad ...
Here I am, more than 10,000 miles a way from home, Syria, get the bad news about my father passing away. Unable to jump on the plane and fly to be there for him, unable to give him the last hug and kiss, unable to tell him my promises, unable to thank him for everything, and the reason is so simple, a civil war in the most uncivil way, a destruction more than the nuclear bomb, and fear of disrespect of telling the truth against both side of this war.
My dad left this world, after he has witnessed the most extraordinary devastation in Syria. The magnitude of the situation is unbelievable. Its just heartbreaking, Every time I talked to him, he prayed to God to stop this crime in Syria, to stop the killing, to stop the destruction and to guide people from to the right thoughts of peace and love.
Unfortunately,
He died and he was still dreaming
He died and kids are still dying.
He died and people still suffering
He died and Syria still destroying
He died and the sky getting colored with black
He died with the stars moving a way from earth.
He died and every one is crying but with no tears, because all sources are dried.
I watched a small man with thick calluses on both hands work fifteen and sixteen hours a day. I saw him once literally bleed from the bottoms of his feet, a man who lived for us, dreamed for us, and taught us all we need to know about faith and hard work by the simple eloquence of his example.
Mourning a loss as great as this is not easy, however, I think it is made more bearable by our faith. Knowing that death marks a beginning, not just an end, is one of the most comforting principles that faith teaches us. But now in my deepest thought ask myself what beginning my dad wanted?
My dad was dreaming for a new beginning where all Syrian’s, Muslims or Christians, Sunni or Shiites, young or old, men or women, wake up from that long sleep, recognize that love is peace, principles is to follow not to sell, leadership is sacrifices for the others, and finally to recognize that war nothing but destruction.
I wish our leaders learn from the simple man, my dad, his quietness was strength, his word’s were logic, his guidance was real faith, and his goal was to help others not himself. Can we say the same about all what now called themselves leaders in Syria?
I wish we can remembers our dad’s example, may be we can give them some of those dreams they had before they passed a way.
I remind every one with what Edgar A. Guest. Have said:
Only a dad but he gives his all, To smooth the way for his children small, Doing with courage stern and grim The deeds that his father did for him. This is the line that for him I pen: Only a dad, but the best of men.
Right from the time when you held me in your arms to the day when you saw me off for my first day in school, I am holding today on the beautiful memories that have made me the person I am today. I miss you dad.
Now you are in heaven, we promise to keep the promise; we promise to fulfill the dream, love and peace to all, and to be the simple example like you.
I have stopped looking at the sky in the night, because destiny has taken away my life’s brightest star. I miss you dad.
