My darling Waleed,
My life was changed forever when we fell in love. It changed again forever when you died. In the short time that was ours, my eyes opened fully to the joy of life. Through the power of our love, the communion of our souls, the wonder of our hopes and our dreams I came to live fully in the present.
Now I stand before family and friends in an all too real present. I am just one member of one family devastated by the events of Tuesday September 11th. The enormity of the pain and horror of your death is bigger than me, than all of us. The world stands on the brink of something. I know not what.
All I know is that you too were on the brink. The world was truly your oyster and you knew it and relished it. So many people have spoken of your love of life, the enthusiasm and the dignity with which you took it on. Your ability to live with the living. Your kindness and compassion and how you touched so many lives. Your glorious smile and crazy giggle. The unadulterated joy with which you experienced everything. It was my honour and my privilege, and my life’s greatest gift to be the one that you danced with, whose hand you held, whose shoulder you rested on, whose ear you whispered into. Your partner.
I want to tell the world how you set me free by loving me unconditionally. I want to share how you made the world a more beautiful place by making me laugh, by letting me cry, and through your sheer determination that both of us would become all that we could, together. I want to speak of the power of making yourself vulnerable to me, and trusting me.
I suspect you’re rolling your eyes because this is way too serious, right? Too serious, in front of too many people. But maybe not. You’re probably looking at me and aching because you want to hold me and share my pain. Don’t worry about me, baby, I’m strong, and I have a legacy of living to do. For both of us. It was not my fate to be with you at your end, to comfort you and protect you from danger and evil.
So instead I promise that I will live with the living. Slowly in the beginning. It will take time to mourn your loss…
You still had so much to give. I saw it in your eyes every time you looked at a child. Your intense longing to be a father, to build what you called ‘our own little family’.
You still had so much to experience. I remember the countless discussions of how we could balance trekking the silk route from China to Pakistan with having a family. How you wanted a summer-house in the sun and to go to the Grand Prix in Monaco. How you wanted to teach our children to sail.
You still had so much to build. A business. Our marriage. I think of that night just a few weeks ago when we read the page about marriage from "Tuesdays with Morrie" and we were so excited because we had what Morrie said we needed: mutual respect, willingness to compromise, a common set of values, the ability to talk openly. And above all, our belief in the importance of our marriage.
Yes, it will take time. Time in which you wont run to meet me when you hear my key in the front door. Neither will you do that little jig from foot to foot with that look of delirious joy upon seeing me. Nor all the other bejillion little things you did that made our life together so special. Like riding every mile with me in Tuscany despite the fact that you could have ridden out front way ahead. And holding my hand to reassure me on my first open-water dive in the Seychelles when we swam with whale sharks and dived with rays. Like grinning with delight when you found your favourite stuff in the fridge. And eating a week’s tabouleh in a day and a carton of Pulp Addiction ice-cream in one sitting. Like spending hours on eBay to buy pair of Madonna tickets because I said I wanted to go. And dancing the night away in each other’s arms at Café de Paris. Like your infinite excitement about getting married and throwing the party of our lives on a cliff-top in Santorini overlooking the sunset.
Time, not only for me but also for the myriad lives that you touched so deeply. People have written to all of us to speak of your impact on them. The themes are the same, my love: you listened, you reached out with compassion, you knew how to party, you were so smart, and so unbelievably humble. And you had grace and style. But most of all, you knew what mattered and you did it willingly and with an open heart.
Kahlil Gibran said: When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. I know you’ve been watching us Waleed: your parents, Sany and May and Randy and Chris, Ronald and Joseph and Garrett, Carisa and Danielle and Michelle, Maria, your family, your friends, your colleagues and all those that loved you. There is great sorrow here, my love, simply because you were our delight. Each of us has treasured memories and moments – Randy and Ronald and the double diamond ski runs in Utah; Maria and pillow fights in London hotels, Sany and your ski-boat somehow always parked in his backyard, your mom flying to Boston at a moment’s notice because you needed her, Charles and trips to Thailand and Turkey, Jill and Eddie on safari in Africa, Max in India, Lara and eating Mirel’s favourite meals at Mirel’s favourite restaurants in Paris, Joseph and the Chinese masks, May and margaritas in Epcott Centre’s Mexico…
We all turn to our memories now, each sharing our special stories about how you touched our lives. These memories cannot fill the gaping hole in our lives. Like New York, our skyline will never be the same. We are forever changed. But we will rebuild. And we will be stronger.
Thank you for telling me often that you were so happy. Thank you for opening your heart to my family and my friends, and for sharing your family and friends with me. Thank you for pushing me to be all that I can and for believing in me. Thank you for showing me that it is possible to take whatever life throws at you, and to make the most of it. Thank you for choosing to be with me, and for calling it the best question you ever asked. I love you.
At this moment as I begin a journey without you, I know that nothing can stand against the power of love; not death, not fear, not anger and not evil. Farewell, my darling Waleed. Peace.