A huge part of my work is writing stories about people who have passed away.
Wars, siege, diseases, injustice, poverty, and going out to sea in search of a better life. So many different scenarios, but the result is always the same. I wrote about so many people, but among those people who have crowded my head, I forgot to tell you stories about some people who passed away peacefully.
Working for Mondoweiss the past years led me to hear so many stories about people who lost their loved ones. In my conversations, I could feel the sadness, hear frightening and shaking voices, and I witnessed their tears at most times – all while hiding mine.
I was able until now to get myself out of sadness when I needed to. This time is different because I’m the one who lost his beloved one, my father Sobhi, who passed away earlier this month at 79 years old. My rock, my idol. The one who I always brought out my best for, to keep him proud.
Being in this position has made me reflect about the details I miss when I interview people. An interview does not show it all. It does not reveal things like how difficult it is sleeping on the first night after the death of your father. Or the strange feeling when you no longer hear him calling your name. And how you hold in your tears whenever someone hugs you and offers condolences?
I admit, after this week, I have realized how strong people are. How they keep their tears and feelings in when they answer me. The first week of my father’s death, I was struggling to say even one sentence about him without tears falling.
From the time my father was a little boy to the current time, he did what seemed like the impossible. It is not easy to raise a family in the Gaza Strip. It is a hard job that most people complain about. Raising, feeding, educating, dressing, and so on – poverty makes it hard to accomplish any of those things.
But my father sacrificed everything to guarantee his family all of life’s blessings.
He came from poor parents, and was just a little boy when his father died and left behind a family of nine. He found himself as the eldest boy who had to help his family survive. At times this boy needed a family to support him, but he was forced to grow up too fast, and carry the full responsibility of his family before ever starting his own.
He was a firm believer in God, and a hard worker who dedicated his life to the family. Some days he would come back home with his hands bleeding, all in order to serve his family.
He spent his life waking up every day at 3:00 in the morning, going to his work of manufacturing tile flooring, and getting back in the afternoon. In winters, while it was pouring rain and very cold, he would go to work, ignoring all the obstacles in his way.
After he would leave the house, my brother and I would race to his bed after he left, the warmest spot at home, lay down and watch TV while the smell of the bread my mother used to make in the morning wafted in. We enjoyed a good life, only because there was a man outside bearing the hardest conditions for us, to keep his family inside safe and happy.
Families are sacred in Gaza, they are united and live with each other no matter how large and extended the family is. Sons rarely leave their parents’ homes. The father usually builds one or two floors for his family on top of his own house. He adds other floors for his sons, so when they get married and start their own families, they can be close by. And the tradition continues for generations to come.
When parents get old, all of their sons come to serve them and help them with their needs. Parents who spent their lives giving their families their best, spend their last years surrounded by their sons and grandsons who try to give them everything in return.
I remember the night I was offered my position by Mondoweiss. Just hours before, my father and I were chatting, and he told me that if a man combines his work with his belief, he will enjoy God’s kindness in the reward. I believe that night his prayers after I left to sleep, as he always did, helped me to be among such an amazing and supportive team.
When I told him the news, he was so happy, and he said this is a new path, and “you have to light it up by giving your best.” He sanctified work and always encouraged everyone to find a way to do something, instead of blaming the bad conditions surrounding them.
When you get that close to death, you find that people become ready to pass once they witness their purpose of life completed. They feel that they have achieved their goals. My father’s goal was to build an educated family, and he did that. I am the youngest son of eight, and only because of him, I’m able to speak about him. I was lucky to hold his hand and tell him that all I have is only because of him, because he was a wonderful father, and I’m glad and thankful for him, just one night before he passed away.
He always believed that a smart and hard-working person finds the opportunities in the darkest places. Now I pray that he may find the light, and be well-awarded by Allah for his great deeds in his life.
Rest in Peace, my dear father, Sobhi Rabah Hajjaj, 1943- Jun 8, 2022.
