Once upon a time...

I saw my grandfather today for the first time in about 16 years, for a man whom i have visually forgotten, much less had any sort of sensual communication with, i felt a deep connection spring from beneath my veins –a deafening array of sorrow and shame pressing my heart as it surges. Strange how i feel i owe this man, my fathers father—i feel sympathy for this man, so close, and yet so far from a grandson that once played on his lap and shared merry moments. Separated by nearly two decades, oceans apart, in worlds far removed, reuniting as mere strangers. He is weary, fatigued, shattered by the decades of stress and strain in the sweltering streets of southern Iraq. His children scattered across the globe, his wives (married twice) having parted this life for the one ahead of him—what was once a vibrant world now bleak; a brute testimony to all things transient.

He calls me to his side amid so many of his grandchildren; my nafs (lower self) is pleased at the show of distinction, i quickly rebuke it, assuring it that distinction rests in God’s eyes and not man’s. Past the silhouette of callous and craggy skin I stare into his better eye, peering into a near century of experience and insight into this toilsome life. What do i tell this man, of my life of ease? What do i tell a man who has intimately lived in the shadow of difficulty and oppression. What do i tell him of air-conditioned rooms, clean running water, and ample food? Of McFlurries and closets of spare clothing—how do i boast of religious freedom, of social welfare and political freedom? how?... so i say nothing of it. I kiss him on the forehead as we exchange our greetings. He smiles as he murmurs several praises to his Lord, al-hamdu-lillah, and how right he is. A moment of silence tiptoes past vigilant ears—oh how so quickly we age and how so swiftly the passage of time treads past our numbered days.

Sigh…