Now You Know

A relative of mine passed away yesterday. I got the call today while walking to the city centre, enjoying Noor Mhanna’s cover of Alf Leila w Leila. It was one of those calls when upon seeing the number on your phone your heart shrinks to the size of a button and you know something has happened. You look for hints of it in your caller’s voice and then, as if relieved by the delivery of sad news, you sigh and take comfort in the fact that now you know.

I took it well, with my usual numbness and inability to fully grasp events when they first unfold. After the suddenness of it wore out, my sole thought was that I will never see this woman again who always featured in every familial gathering, who always had something interesting to say, who was probably a hypochondriac, and who always wore the most beautiful Palestinian dresses. She was always graceful and well put-together, albeit too hung up on appearances. But whatever her faults, she was a lively character and she always made excellent conversations.

Then I felt distant. This is the first major event to take place back in Amman after my departure, and I felt that I should be closer. Then I remembered the obligatory nature of most events of this type, and the way they turn from sincere grief to shows of social status and displays of phony emotions, and I was glad that I wasn’t there. I can’t tolerate the disfigurement of the loss of a loved person. Why do we mutilate even death?

So she’s gone. And although she was always in the background of my memories, at least this way I will be able to retain her image as a colourful and stylish conversationalist who so often told stories of old Palestine.