The closest and only encounter I had with Lamya (Allah Yirhamha) was a handshake when I was about 13 yrs old. At that time, to me at least, she was a celebrity who sang with Soul II Soul.
Then a few years later, I found myself addicted to a song called "Come Undone". It was the only song I loved on the Duran Duran CD. Many years later, I discovered that my favorite part of the song was actually sung by Almarhooma (that was the 2nd encounter, with her voice only).
My only intimate relationship with Almarhooma was her soul and voice (music CD). I bought her CD in Washington D.C. in 2004. I loved all her songs on the album. For me, she replaced Bjork and Morcheeba. I prayed that I wouldn't get sick of her album because when I first bought the CD, I'd listen to her every day for many consecutive months, and some songs on repeat (like Pink Moon). I'd force all my friends to listen to her first, then proudly Proclaim that she's Omani and "my" relative. Even in my travels, I'd carry her CD with me. The last time I played it was last summer for my friends in California.
I was very proud of her, not because of her achievement, but her passion and determination went a long way and broke through many roadblocks. I know her beautiful mother played a very inspirational and supportive role too. I look up to Lamya because she was extremely courageous and resilient. Pursuing a career in the US music industry is a very cruel battle let alone how your own society/community taboos it. The sacrifices are far beyond the support one can get, but her success also shows you the gift of a mother's love and loyalty, and the conviction of an imperial soul.
I've always admired Aunty Fawziya from a distance, and every time I saw her in a public setting, I'd find myself magnetized and scrambling to greet her with a hug and kisses. Other than my own mother, I've never found a woman as warm and charismatic as Aunty Fawziya. Today, I find her in my deepest thoughts, and I can't help but feel sad. It's so strange that I felt more sad for Aunty than my own mother (who I love deeply) when my younger brother departed last May. Who knows, perhaps because I was too consumed with my own grief.
I've not been able to sleep well after witnessing the grave sorrow Aunty Fawziya was in. The pain must have been worse than having an open heart surgery without any anesthetic. The pain that crawls all over your body, cripples you, around your neck, chokes you. The shock that spreads like 4th stage malignant cancer in your mind. I suppose it hit home because although I've never known Lamya on a personal level, Amrou (my cousin) and I were in Bahrain, proudly talking (almost bragging) about her on the last week of December to a Lebanese music artist. My sister-in-law was just telling me a week ago that her parents invited Lamya for new year, and she sang a song for them too. How bizarre, her presence was so profound in the last month. She was at the tip of our tongue, and sometimes the center of our conversations. I even saw her on "The Week" in one of the last pages at some event, and immediately recognized her (although she looked very different) but I asked mom and she validated that it is her indeed. Subhaan Allah.
On another but connected front, I've struggled to understand or accept why the beautiful young or close people to our hearts have to leave so soon and so suddenly without any warnings or indications, and all I can say is that I had a dream shortly after Lamya's passing. I heard my brother's voice calling my name so gently, and later followed by "read surat al kahf". I'm not proud to say this, but I know very little about religion and frankly speaking, I don't know the names of all the suras in the Quraan. I asked my mom if it actually exists and if so, what does she know of it, and if there's any story worth noting. She said, it has many stories, and one of them is that "there's a wisdom behind every event, even those that will anger us, not make sense, make us sad, and some may even take a toll on our patience and understanding". All I thought of after that is "I hope Lamya is keeping my baby brother company and joining the other lovely people I adored who have departed from earth". Aameen.
It's the only way to carry on with life. Not move on... for One can never have closure with those they love. They will forever remain with us, and in our prayers. The next time I visit my brother's grave, I promise to say a prayer for Lamya too, from the heart. In grief, with Um Lamya.
