Coming Home (English Version)

46. Father

"No, no, no, you stay here," she tells me when I offer to walk her to the door too. "I can show myself out," and then she turns to Layla. "Whatever you need, if you have any questions, just call or text, okay?"

"Thank you so much for everything," I tell her.

"Yes," Layla agrees. "It was all perfect."

"You're welcome," she replies. "We were only there rooting for you, the new parents."

"Aren't you tired?" I ask Layla once we're alone.

"I am beyond exhausted," she admits. "But at the same time I want to keep looking at him," her sight is lost on our son and she sighs deeply. "Do you really think we can do this?" She wonders.

I kiss the side of her head. "I'm positive that we can."

The next day in the afternoon, after barely sleeping for a couple of hours and after changing endless diapers, Uncle Saeed arrives to meet his nephew. We're not ready yet for visits, but we made an exception for him only. Uncle Saeed sits on the recliner in the bedroom with our son in his arms and Layla and I sit on the couch in front of him.

"Mashallah, mashallah... He looks exactly like you!" He tells me.

"There's something we haven't told you yet," I reply.

"What's that?"

"We're naming him after our favorite uncle," Layla announces.

His eyes travel back and forward from Layla to me.

"I don't think we would be together if it wasn't for you, Uncle," Layla adds.

His eyes begin to fill with tears and he looks down at the baby once more. "Well, I— I—" he chokes on the words.

I stand up and go to sit on the arm of the chair he's sitting on to put a hand on his back. "Uncle, let me introduce you to Saeed bin Hamdan bin Mohammed Al Maktoum."

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6 months later

I can feel the dirt on my feet, hands and all over my face, but I do not mind. Saeed Hilal quietly drives to the house as I lean my head against the car window, thinking about the many conversations I had with Layla these past few weeks about what it was like for her to lose her father. Given the description she gave me of how she felt, I don't think it makes much of a difference if you're a small child or an adult, because I still get this sudden feeling of unprotection.

The entire family had time to prepare for this, we were able to say good-bye, to settle any unfinished business if we wanted to and I'm grateful for that, but the downside of knowing someone you love is dying is that you start losing them before it actually happens, and when the time finally arrives it is still extremely painful.

I, alongside my brothers and other male members of the family, put him to the ground and there is something very powerful about how we carry out that ritual. I've seen images of burials where people stand around the coffin in black outfits as some cemetery employee starts to slowly lower it down into the ground and then other people put dirt over the coffin. But not us, no. I was down there in that hole and pushed the dirt over my father's body with my bare hands and even though I haven't shed a single tear my heart is aching like I have never felt before.

Saeed stops the car in front of the main door and we both get out, when I walk around the car to go into the house, my bodyguard is standing there with a grim look on his face.

"What happens tomorrow, sir?" He asks me.

I shake my head. "Nothing, Saeed, nothing happens tomorrow. I will call you when the mourning days are over."