In its simple definition a picture is capturing a moment of time. To stop time, people, and events in one frame. But to some people, it might be stopping time itself, stopping life. When it captures a moment that forces life to take off its bright colors and wear only the color of ashes . . .the color of death.
A picture. No words can describe the amount of pain surrounding its frame.
The family of four members and a fifth who did not see the light of life yet, is now limited to only Yahya Hassan and his son Mohammed after living a relentless night that erased the meaning of life without any mercy when his pregnant wife “Nour” and beautiful little daughter “Rahaf” were killed.
The boy and his father are laying on the hospital’s bed, being cured of their injures. Yahia holds his son’s hand trying to release his soul for losing his mother and sister. Trying to tell himself that it’ll be okay. They looked to each other. And their eyes told us this story –
Me and You ..
Oh my little boy .. Nothing is left to us .. Except ourselves ..
I know it’s not easy ..
I know what your eyes are trying to say ..
You love me .. but I’m not enough for you ..
I love you .. but I’ll badly miss your mom and my beloved Rahaf ..
We .. might not be enough to each other .. but I believe that God will be the best supporter for us ..
I believe that in spite of all that love your mother hold for us in her heart .. that God is more affectionate .. he’s with us and will ease our pain ..
One day .. it’ll be okay ..
My little boy ..
Let us now have a deal ..
Mornings will seam different now ..
And to be honest .. it will differ in a bad way ..
We have to more depend on ourselves ..
I’ll wake you up to school .. I’ll make you breakfast .. I’ll put it in the right side of your bag ..
You’ll find it in the same place your mother used to put .. but I can’t promise that it will taste the same .. you know that women have their own magic in preparing food as they claim!
Your clothes .. I’ll clean them for you .. but please .. try to keep them clean for a longer time .. you know that work takes a lot of my time .. Twice a week would be fair to both of us .. wouldn’t it?
If I was late in waking you up and your teacher rebuked you, if you opened your bag and didn’t find your breakfast, or if you found some dirt on your shirt .. Please don’t be mad at me .. I’m trying hard .. Maybe I was playing with your sister Rahaf in my dream, and I was afraid to wake up and she never visits me again! .. You know how much I miss her .. Don’t you?
So, please .. don’t be mad at me .. and don’t cry over your mother ..
Once, your grandma told me that the child is born with two cords binding him with his mother .. the first that provides him with food is cut at the moment of birth .. while the other one .. is hidden and eternal .. is binding their hearts together .. and your grandma claimed that this cord never cuts off, even with the death of one of them ..
If you cry .. she’ll know .. she won’t be here to hug you .. Don’t burden her .. for the sake of loving her .. don’t cry over her ..
I also promise to play with you your favorite game with Rahaf ..
You’ll flee .. and I’ll look for you .. but please, don’t hide in narrow places .. my size is not tiny as Rahaf ..
Please .. don’t be mad at me .. and don’t cry over your mother ..
Endure me .. and endure my sudden sadness sometimes ..
Don’t cry over Rahaf too .. I don’t know other legends telling that a telepathy exists between the one and his sister .. but I know that she had always loved how your face looks when you smile .. so, please smile for her .. for the sake of loving her .. don’t cry over her ..
The month of Ramadan and the feast will also seem different ..
I’ll buy you a bigger lantern .. and double your feast gift ..
I know it’s not enough ..
I want you to know that I’m trying hard ..
I’ll be stronger .. for you .. for us ..
And so you should do .. be stronger; me and you .. my little boy .. nothing is left to us .. except ourselves.