Category Archives: M Letters

You Were My Home: A Message from Her

They say there is no such thing as true love. It does not exist. Love is just a thought, a non-existant dream. People get married to the person they are in love with, and then soon, the relationship turns out to be some kind of an investment, a contribution to society. Parents become partners and soon turn into life-long friends; best friends if they were lucky. Some realize reality and divorce, some just live with it, some get so caught up that they don’t even notice it.

But what if I feel I will – if ever – marry the wrong person, cause the only person I loved was you?

It’s hard to say it out loud. But I searched for you in every person I thought I liked or loved. I searched for you in people who knew you, and I told people who didn’t know you about you. It’s as if you’re a part of me, that never left – even though you’re far gone. That rush that my heart would feel just by mentioning your name or knowing about you is unreal. It doesn’t make sense. Why you? Why didn’t I know that it was bigger than me? I somehow did, but I wanted to outsmart my feelings, but now I am living with a broken heart.

Living like this is logically heart breaking. I try to believe you are not the reason of my misery, but you are. Nothing makes sense without you. I thought you made me weak, what I didn’t know is: loving you made me strong. I was strong because of you. Maybe I wasn’t, perhaps I was strong before you too. What I know is you broke me, and my heart still fights for you to this day.

I don’t know how to convince him to love again. I’m so scared to be alone. It horrifies me, and that explains all the relationships I was in. I felt trapped in each and every one of them. Being with any guy was a step farther away from you. I was never happy, even though they tried twice as much as you did, I could never give in – not to anyone else but you.

I can’t love myself either, for losing you. Maybe that sounds exaggerated, but it’s true. I’m not trying to flatter you. We both know what we had was bigger, you can’t convince me you have it with her.

Who is she?
I want to believe that you’re just like me: you’re convincing yourself you love her but you love me, but I can’t. I want to believe that we still have a spiritual connection, but I simply don’t anymore. And it hurts..

I know this sounds like just another desperate letter, maybe it is. Maybe I am desperate. I should congratulate you. We always thought I was the strong cold-hearted one.

I can’t play the victim because we both ruined each other, a love so strong can’t simply end without chaos. I can’t blame you without blaming myself.

I ask myself, if we went back in time; would I lay my eyes on you and let myself fall in love with you like I did? Or would I look away? Would I leave my everything to be with you like I did? Or would you just be a happy thought in my system to keep, while living like the rest of them? Would I say out loud that you’re my soul mate? Or would I realize that I was your lesson when in fact you were my home?

You can also check I Should Have Listened: A Message From Your Daughter

You can Also check I Died Today : A Message from A Lebanese Martyr



I Should Have Listened : A Message from Your Daughter

Now, that you lay in front of me… so peaceful, like an angel… I can say everything I wanted to say to you and I just couldn’t have the nerve to say. I couldn’t have the nerve to look to your eyes and tell you “I should’ve listened to you from the start”.

Now that you lay in front of me I realize that you are the only man who really cared. I was twenty two back then, but I thought I knew better.  I thought all men were like you. I thought he would take care of me and treat me right, but I was wrong.

I left everything and I followed him only to discover the beginning of my misery. You used to tell me that a person who deserves my tears wouldn’t make me cry, but I cried every morning for the past 20 years. I cry when there’s no one around and I cry whenever I look at the mirror. I cry for how stupid I was when I was young and how little I knew about life.

Why did you spoil me this much when I was still a toddler? Why did you make life seem so easy when it is actually so bitter?

We went through a lot of financial and emotional problems (I never mentioned anything to you whenever you called, I always knew what you would do), but I never cared. I thought my presence near him would be enough. I thought that a kiss from my lips would wipe his tears off and lift up his soul (like when I used to hug you when you were sad).

Did I say tears – I wish he cries when he’s mad. Instead he just loses all his temper on me, because I can simply take it, because I am his wife, because I’ve tolerated this for so long, because he knows I’ll never leave.

The more I live the more I realize that most women share my story (I just wished I would be lucky). We all fell in love when we were young; they all sang us music to our ears. We all forgot our dreams once we were mothers, and instead we thought we would assist them with theirs.

But, they never listened and they won’t listen.

He never understood that I just wanted what was best for him, for us. What would I know? I am just an inexperienced housewife to him. My ideas are so shallow.

But I have to admit, he would ask me sometimes for my feedback, just to put me down in disgrace, making me feel like a useless cloth, for knowing so little; for answering so plain.

Look at my vocabs. Cloth? I even pity myself. You wanted me to be a doctor, and here I am giving you a useless cloth as an example.

I just hope I listened to you back then, when you told me to wait. But, he was different back then, he really wanted me back. He really loved me I guess, I thought he was worth the lack.

Now, he wants all these younger girls with good hips, wearing short dresses and walking on their fingertips.

I gave up convincing him that I am the only one who really cares, that I am the only one who will always be there. I gave up persuading him to follow his dream, because I know it’s never too late. I have simply given up on making him love me again and grasp the fact that he is truly my priority and my everything. And, worse of all, I’m tired and I’ve given up of pleading him to tell my kids to talk to me with respect.

Dad, I am sorry. I am sorry for every time I defended him. I am sorry for cursing you when you knew what was best for me. I’m looking at you, hoping you could hear me, hoping you could hug me for one last time – to wipe the tears off my cheeks, to lift up my core.

You can also check : I Died Today: A Letter from A Lebanese Martyr

I DIED TODAY: A Message from A Lebanese Martyr

I DIED TODAY: A Message From A Lebanese Martyr

I died today, but I didn’t think I was in danger.
I passed by the church around the corner, went to the grocery store under my building, and I was going back up when I heard a huge explosion. I didn’t get what was going on, everything went grey, and I couldn’t feel my legs. The weight I was carrying completely disappeared, and I felt myself in a white space.
Then came my dear husband carrying my grocery bags. I couldn’t believe my eyes, my dear Samir is giving me a hand after 30 years of waiting for him to return from the Syrian prisons. They finally let go off my innocent husband! A sudden joy rushed through my veins as I caressed his cheeks, a feeling I haven’t felt for SO LONG!
Samir looked so handsome, so young, so happy to see me as well! Finally, we were joined again, lovers of the past.

But where did my building disappear? Why’s everything so white? I couldn’t get it. My body was so light. I haven’t been able to move so freely in such a long time!

That’s when it hit me: I am no longer alive. My handsome Samir wasn’t alive as well. All this hope I lived for has been for no use, they’ve killed him… He was already dead waiting for me to rejoin him in this white space, waiting to give me a hand with my grocery bags.
I was happy because I was with him again, after all this wait. But I wasn’t happy for what we lived.
My life was a hard one. I had 4 daughters, and 5 sons. I lost two of my daughters during the Lebanese civil war. In 1981, my husband was taken as a hostage because he was expressing his sorrow to our neighbor and blaming the powers for my daughters’ death; was that a crime? It never made sense to me.
My husband’s kidnap led all my sons to participate in the war, and fight for Lebanon. I pleaded that they don’t go. I begged them one by one. I didn’t want to lose them, too. I couldn’t lose them. But they didn’t listen, they didn’t care about risking their lives for their beloved country. They wanted to get their father back. They wanted to be free; they persisted to fight.
I guess this is not what only my sons did. This is what most of the youth did during the war. I understood that, being a citizen. But the mother in me could never digest it. My only children, the children I fed ever since day one, my vulnerable kids, my BABIES, joining the war…
WAR. What a selfish word; the word that destructed my home, the word that tormented my soul, and left me in despair.
One by one, they joined the war and one by one I lost them, my four baby boys. Yes, Habibi Rami made it. He was lucky. He was shot in the leg (that later got paralyzed) but he was alive. My other two daughters got married and traveled to Canada with their husbands scared from the situation. They wanted to take me with them, but I wanted to be here when my husband returns home.
Plus, I couldn’t leave Rami. He wanted to stay in Achrafieh, he wanted to prove to the powers that he will stay in Lebanon, that he will never give up. That’s what we did. That’s what we’ve been doing since 1992.
But life didn’t treat us right. All I had was my house, at Sassine’s Square. My husband lost all his money in the late 60s when Bank Intra went bankrupt. My two daughters sent me some money every now and then, but I could never ask for more, they have their own lives over there. They have a family. They needed the money more than a woman my age needed money. Rami changed a lot of jobs till he settled at an office in Fern El Chebbek, working as an accountant. But you know Lebanese salaries; I don’t want to get into details.
Public transportation is very messy in Beirut. Electricity and water is not so promising. But I could live with it. However, there was no healthcare, and I was getting older.
I soon realized that the country all my babies lost their lives for had no responsibility towards me, a mother of martyrs and a wife of a kidnapped innocent gorgeous man. My dear Rami did his best to take care of me, but he didn’t really have to, he deserved to be a bit happy in his life.
I wrote endless letters to the Ministry of Health, to the MPs, to journalists, and to anyone that I thought could assist me. They all described my case as a Cliché Lebanese family story and told me I should stop begging.
Begging? I lost 4 healthy boys and 2 lovely girls for a country. I got detached from the love of my life for a nation that labels me as a beggar and a Cliché Lebanese woman?
Ironically today, I realized that I am no longer a fighter but a martyr as well.
And as I promised, I stayed here. I stayed to welcome my husband back, exactly where he left me.
Ironically today, as I move freely between the Lebanese households I still see the youth hating. I see people pointing fingers. I see handsome gals wanting to risk their lives for yet another time. I see dirty minds preparing schemes to bomb, to kill, and to destroy.
Ironically today, I understand that all that blood that was shed by my kids and other young souls didn’t solve anything. It’s all the same… same as 1975. Same as 1989. Same as 2005 and what follows… and it’s all a shame.
Why don’t you get it? Why don’t you wake up? Why can’t you change the way you perceive things? You can make a change! Change Lebanon! Stop breaking the hearts of your parents and of your nation. The elections are soon. Think rationally. Think as a citizen. Love your parents. Cherish your lives. Do not let all those people who died for Lebanon regret that they did. Do not let the powers and the media brainwash you! You hold the power with your unity. The government is nothing without YOU.
Sadly, this will remain a cry from a mother who doesn’t know what she’s talking about because YOU KNOW BETTER; YOU KNOW POLITICS. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND AND FEEL ANYTHING. I am pathetic to you. I nag too much. I should only clean the house and cook you good meals.
As for Rami, I’m right next to you. We are all watching over you. I hope life treats you better than it treated us and you witness a better Lebanon.
When you get home from work you will find our house broken down in pieces. Be the boy I’ve always known you for. Be strong.

Your salary can get you a descent home close to your work, and hopefully the Lebanese government and your sisters will help. Now you do not have me as burden, you can spend your money as you please. I am sorry I brought you to a country such as Lebanon. I am sorry for all the troubles you’ve faced and you’re about to face. You will never cease to be my inspiration. I love you, Mum.

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