Living to See You Again

“YOUR EYES REMIND ME OF SOMEONE”, says the taxi driver as we drive away from Beirut International Airport.

Flying in and out of Beirut is a regular trip I do so regularly. Working in the retail industry requires me to attend many general meetings, trade shows, franchise exhibitions and other events taking place all around the world. For me, doing these trips has become nothing but a routine. For others, I am the lucky guy who gets to travel every now and then.

When coming from trips, I always have the privilege of being picked up by friends or family. But on that day, for some reason I cannot remember, no one was available. So I had to grab a taxi from the airport. Deciding on which taxi to take in Lebanon is based on two things: price and appearance. First you have to negotiate the better price and second you have to predict the condition of the car by taking a quick glance at the driver’s physical appearance. The one I chose was an easy pick. He gave me a good price, with no need for negotiation, and seemed to be a descant old man in his sixties.

“Really?”
“Yes. I once new someone who has the same eyes as you.” The driver replies while staring at me from the rear mirror just over his bold head.
“Who is he? You never know. I might end up knowing him.” I barely reply as the last thing I want after a long flight is to start a thirty minute conversation with a taxi driver.
“I’m sure you won’t know him. He is a man I knew back in the early eighties. He lived in Bikfaya.”
As I hear “Bikfaya” my eyes immediately leave the scenery I was staring at from the back window and turn toward the driver.
“BIKFAYA? I AM FROM BIKFAYA!”
“So you’re right. You might end up knowing him after all” replies the driver enjoying the fact that he found himself a good thirty minute conversation.
“What was his name?”
“Raymond Beschir.”
“Amazing. He’s my uncle.”
The taxi driver then looks at me as if he is looking at Raymond again after more than twenty five years.
“Well let me tell you young man. You have a great uncle. He’s one of the nicest and most generous people I have ever known. I also know his mother. Which means your grand mother. Is she still alive?”
“She is” I reply still stunned by this amazing coincidence.
“How did you know them?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say your uncle greatly affected my life and the lives of so many people around me.”
This thirty minute ride I thought would be boring was starting to become more than very interesting. I adjust my seat in the back.
“Please. Go ahead. Tell me all about it.”

(The above is writen somewhere. In your memory.)

You died on a warm June evening. Peacefully. You were afraid though you were constantly saying that the Saints were on your side and waiting for you. You kept on talking to the Virgin Mary. She had become the love of your life.

You assisted a funeral just two weeks before you died. You knew it was the same place where you were to be buried. You even knew that most people there were going to be at you funeral.

It made you smile. I kept on watching you. Something you might not have noticed. But yes. I kept looking at you, either when I was sitting just next to you or from a distance. You smiled. You look at people around you and smiled for no specific reason. You even looked at the smallest details like the walls, the carpets, the pictures. You knew that soon you would be buried and people would be sitting in this very same room.

And I was there, to see it all. To see you live, to see you live your death and see you dye. I am still here to miss you every single day. And I will always be here to remember you and have you as an example.

I mostly remember you while driving; not sure why. But I would be driving around and suddenly, I smile. I imagine you smiling down at me. And I cannot but smile back at you.

You will always be remembered for the great person you were. For the heart you had. For the tears you dropped. And for the smiles you drew on so many faces.

William Shakespeare once said:

“Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.”

Moni,

I bow to you for the life you lived ... for others.

Respect and love,

Forever.