Day before yesterday night, I received the shattering news that a close friend of mine, a man that I loved and admired, was no longer with us, he died via car accident. My heart broke on the spot and through the steady stream of tears, I have tried to make sense of it. But I can’t. I can’t make sense of it because it doesn’t make sense.
Since I found out, I have been floating in and out of memories, my body giving into emotion and sobbing. Sobbing for what I lost, sobbing for what everyone else lost, and most of all sobbing for the future that he no longer has. I am not known for my ability to talk about my feelings, or for asking for help. My form of expression is, and always been, writing. Something that Ibrahim and I shared.
I am not going to talk about how tragic it is to lose someone, partially because we all know, but also, because words are failing me. I can’t describe the sense of loss accurately. Instead, I am going to talk about Ibrahim the man, who he was, what he meant to me, and why he was loved by everyone who was lucky enough to cross paths with him. This is my therapy, my tribute to him, a small piece of the legacy he is leaving behind.
Everyone who knew Ibrahim will talk about his bright blue eyes and infectious smile. They will remember laughing with him. That even at the age of 23, he had such a strong sense of self, deeply rooted morals that he never wavered from.
Ibrahim was a loving person, he truly and genuinely loved and cared for the people in his life. When he asked about your day, you knew it was because he actually wanted to know. He listened you left every conversation with him feeling happier and more content than when you started it. He just had that effect on people. He had an inherent kindness and the ability to read and understand people, seeing beyond how they presented themselves on the surface.
For me (and I’m sure many others) it went beyond that. In the years I knew him, Ibrahim and I grew incredibly close, sharing many marathon conversations; meeting each others families; staying in all weekend and watching movies and playing games.
Perhaps the defining moment in my relationship with Ibrahim was the day my sweet angel sis Yasmeen died. I was at my “prestigious” internship pushing paper when I heard the news, and I immediately called Ibrahim to come pick me up. Ibrahim, being well aware of my tendency to retreat into myself in times of distress, he worried up and come, while coming he came with a bouquet of flowers, he pick me up and took me to his site. crawled into bed with me and held me as I cried, resulting in his shirt being turned into a giant tissue. *tears*
Throughout the years, our friendship continued. He moved to lagos after our graduation and we used to chat. From morning to evening, ibrahim is the person I used to talk with and he is also he is the 1st person I talk to every morning. his call or sms tune woke me up everyday expecially during Ramadhaan season. Not only that I and Ibrahim shared pieces of writing, we edited each others work, and even discussed collaborating on a writing project he was working on.
One of the most difficult parts for me about this whole ordeal is that Ibrahim was a truly remarkable and incredible man. He had a light around him, he brought joy and wisdom and happiness into so many peoples lives, yet for whatever reason, he failed to find it in his own. He made our world a better place to live in but it was not reciprocated. I keep asking myself, “How could a man like that, a man who embodied positivity and love…a man who was esteemed by those around him…how could he not see what we see? How could he not love himself as we did?”
I realize that there is no use in asking myself questions like that, because there are no answers. I also know while the non stop crying is inevitable at this stage, that Ibrahim would have encouraged me to “Get it out, come on, cry it out….are you finished? Now pick yourself up and be positive. Everything is ok.” So I will do what he’d want me to do, which is to live my life to fullest, with integrity, and happiness. I won’t get caught up in regret, in the negative.
My time with him was too short but it was meaningful; he showed my love, kindness, compassion and insight. He opened himself up unabashedly and with no strings and as a result, he got the same from everyone else.
He reminded me that gentleman exist and that it’s ok to be vulnerable and ask for help. He encouraged me in every aspect of my life and made me feel like a better person, his faith in me gave me faith in myself. Most of all, he displayed that in a real friendship things like time zones don’t exist. Real friendships exist in the heart, and he will forever be in mine.
May Ibrahim Soul Rest In Peace and May The Highest Level of Jannah Be his Final Abode. AMEEN
*Sobbing* *my eyes are full of tears* Allah yafu Ibrahim..
AßdøυℓгAshƐƐd H. TAÞhƐƐdA is a MD of TƐ¢hnøtгøni¢ ¢ømÞAnŶ Nig. ℓtd.
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