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It was my first funeral. I
uttered the traditional Libyan words of condolences that my father taught me. The
words felt clipped because I did not really know how to show emotions, I was
afraid to show emotions. Yet Lubna kept my hand in hers and sat next to me
quietly. Almost like it was her comforting me and not the other way around.
Until her last moment among us in
this dimension, she was the same sweet, caring girl and woman.
In the last decade of her life we
became very close as we worked together and though younger than me, she could not
help herself to mother me. This was in her nature, she would remind me to drink
my water, to eat, to leave the office and go home, to stop being a workaholic
and to take care of my health. Lubna always checked if I was well and even in
the middle of the pandemic she offered to bring supplies to my house when I was
stuck abroad in 2020 so that my father would not risk his life! I am sure all her friends have similar
stories, those of a woman with a heart as big as the world and a contagious smile.
She was a no-nonsense person and she loved to travel and loved shoes and
handbags – she called them her soft spot. She was so elegant and had immense
guts.
I was waiting for the world to
recover from the pandemic so that I can see her seize her dream and move to a
country where she believed she could live a quiet life of service and
enjoyment. She longed for peace, predictability, quiet and rest, and I was
going to visit and sit on the balcony with her and eat from her famous summer
salad and gossip and talk about things not related to war but to love and life.
She was tired of ugly.
I texted her last month for our usual
social distancing meet up on the beach front park, but she told me: “no I can’t
do it this week, I am going to Egypt, let’s meet when I am back!”. I was surprised, the covid numbers where
drastic in Egypt why risk it unless one has a business meeting? and even those
now used online conference apps. She explained it was a vacation, that she was
excited about, she had become tired of the usual Istanbul destination and now
that we had direct flights to Cairo again she wanted to seize the opportunity
to reconnect with a place she loved. I was skeptical because in my opinion
Turkey had handled the pandemic better, was more organized and frankly had
better capabilities in its health sector. But I couldn’t be the boring
spoilsport and tell her not to go…. Although that was exactly what I was
screaming inside my head. So I told myself Lubna was always careful, knew how
to take care of herself and knew what she
was doing.
On the last day of her vacation,
I asked her if she was back already and she said “no tomorrow I am supposed to
fly back, but I have some bad news Intissar… my PCR test came back positive and
so I will need to quarantine in Cairo until I get better!”.
I did not know that it would be
the last time I hear her voice. I sent messages every day to cheer her up. Then
she stopped reading the messages as the blue WhatsApp ticks did not show up.
Her phone’s battery either died or it was switched off. I did not know, but I
was angry at the hospital, the doctors and the isolation ward. Lubna was in an
induced sedation to help her lungs recover, but I was frustrated that the staff
would not allow or arrange for family members to peak at their loved ones on Facetime
or WhatsApp just to be able to see them. I was worried that being alone and
unable to move would take its toll on her. Yes Lubna was a fighter, but you still
needed something to fight for. How can we show her that she had so much to
return to? That so many people loved her
if we could not get her to hear us? Covid be damned! The sense of doom gripped
my heart.
I have not pieced together her
last hours, but I want to believe that she went peacefully into the quiet,
beautiful and better place she always sought and that one day I hope we will be
united in Heaven to sit down and chat over a summer salad and laugh at the
past.
Even in her death, she continued
to be of service. So many people who did
not speak with each other for years have reached out to one another for
comfort. Tributes from all over Libya and the world are filling out her
Facebook page in the hundreds. The soft-spoken
girl had touched so many hearts.
I cried when I heard she had
moved on, I have not cried for a long, long, long time; I have a problem in crying. That was her last
gift to me, one of healing, of release of suppressed emotions and trauma, one
where I could acknowledge that I missed her very much and will miss her
forever. I can’t believe that I won’t be able to call her anymore, nor that my
phone will light up with her thoughtful messages, but I know that for her death
not to go in vain, I have to act on the lessons learnt: “There is no shame in
taking care of yourself, in making yourself a priority, in seeking your
happiness and peace of mind. There is no need for me to be heroic, it is ok to
remove the shield around my heart to enjoy life. It is ok to be heartbroken, it
means you lived and tried”.
I wanted Lubna to experience the
peace and happiness she wanted, I pray she is in peace now with her loved ones
who had preceded her. Yet I find
myself hoping that she still will have the the time to look my way and be with me when I
do the things I want with her in mind sort of like a bucket list. She left us
too soon, I did not realize how much I loved this wonderful friend, until she
was gone. That’s another lesson, don’t’ hold back in in expressing your love to
others, ego be damned, if they don’t respond it is on them but you would have shared
your heart and planted a seed.
I will miss Lubna every day of my
life. Rest in Peace sweet angel. Thank you for having allowed me to walk with
you for part of the journey.
Intissar
Photocredit: from her public social media profile.
