Grief was the ultimate closure for my 2020 year

My mother died yesterday. The funeral is on Saturday. While the rest of my family is busy booking the church, calling the priest, the florist etc. I am hiding in my room, numb, completely dead from the inside. The day after her death, I kept thinking how am supposed to continue my life after this? How can someone survive the death of the most important person in their life? My mother, Hilda, she was the light in my darkness, the love of my life. She was my unique weak point in my life.

Not knowing how to go through the day, I again hid in my room. As I heard familiar voices of uncles, aunts, cousins, I sneaked and saw their masked faces during Covid. They all came to help despite the pandemic. Every now and then, someone was coming to knock on my door and repeatedly I was saying I don’t want to see anyone.

My mother was true to her name, Hilda, which means a warrior in German. She was the best one you will ever meet.

She survived 15 years of civil war, 14 years of kidney dialysis, 25 surgeries, and lot of emotional pain. Yet, she never nagged. In fact, she personified resilience. She fought until the last minute. Her heart stopped three times, but she kept fighting until I told her that it is okay, she can let go. Deep down I wanted her back, I wanted to take my morning coffees with her while listening to her favourite music. We ususally listened to our Lebanese divas, Fairouz and Sabah, and I introduced her to my Spanish bands. Those moments for us were pure happiness.

I was away from Lebanon for 17 years and returned only four years ago. The main reason for my homecoming was my mother. The last four years were intense, we had to rediscover each other. She once told me: “You left a child, you came back a woman.”

To discover each other again meant that we had to go through everything. And as my temper was extreme, it meant, it was an emotional rollercoaster ride involving digging past pains and unresolved issues to fighting, to finding out how amazing and loving person she is.

We also found many things in common. I resemble her a lot. And it is not just the physical features, but innate qualities of being a fighter, driven by passion and stubbornness. We also had the same wit and depth.

Sometimes, she would say something and it would make me laugh for hours. I discovered that without knowing she took tango classes when she was young while in parallel I did so when I was living in Abu Dhabi. We both dropped classes as we didn’t like to dance with partners. I switched to flamenco.

My deepest regret is being unable to hug her for almost a year because of Covid-19.

I will finish my tribute to her with words borrowed from the French writer, Victor Hugo, who wrote this while grieving for his own daughter: “You are no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that I am.”

I love you mom, eternally.