My Great Grandfather

Yesterday our family got a phone call, delivering the news that my great grandfather, as in my grandfathers father, had passed away at the age of 103. I joined in with his prayer, witnessed his burial and sat in his funeral.

He had lived for the last years of his life with his eldest daughter, who had devoted her life to taking care of him.

I am his eldest great grandchild, and he had brought up eleven children, who then brought him forty four grandchildren. In the last three days of his life, he would wake up in the middle of night and call his daughter, and would tell her he had dreamed of being with Allah.

He had surprisingly lived a very long life, thanks to god, as very little people these days live to see themselves enter the triple figures. In fact, my great grandfather witnessed many historical events since his birth in the entire decade he had lived. The two World Wars, the occupation of Palestine, and the two Intifadas, to name a few.

He also had to witness the death of half of his own children, but now he can at last join them once again. May God rest his soul, allah yir7amo.