Via Basel: Griefs and Gifts of July

Art by Karen Waller

In general it is considered fortunate to live a long life and to have a large family. I have been given both, closing in on eight decades of living and surrounded by a large extended family on both paternal and maternal sides. However, the price paid is that it is very likely there will be more losses of loved ones, that add up gradually or come suddenly, and the closer the connections the stronger the impact.

As to grief and grieving, much has been written, orated, lectured, and expounded on, in a variety of disciplines, from psychology, philosophy, and religion to literature, poetry, and art, for ages and ages. I have nothing to add but my experience and my way of expression. The latter is quite brief to explain since I am reaching you, dear reader, now, through the written word in a limited essay form on electronic media. I am a novice in the public, oral, in-person format, which is powerful when mastered but more demanding in resources and public exposure. Another intimate method is a dialogue in a small group or one-on-one, which is most helpful in early grief.

As I sift through the heap of tangled shards that have wounded me in mind, body, and spirit from a devastating loss, three stood out in a special way. These do not diminish in any way my other losses, but dying young has the added effect of incompleteness and a still deeper sting. They all happened in this month of July, yet years apart. As I enter and go through this month I invariably turn more inward and reflective. Yes, there is sadness, but also deep acceptance and a restful state. It borders on the mystical, indescribable in words and language, but that’s all we have to work with. 

The youngest and farthest in time was my late younger sister, Lena, who passed away on July 18th, 1967, at the tender age of 17, soon after she passed her 1st year in medical school successfully, a rare fusion of innocence, beauty, and intelligence. The latest and oldest of them was my cousin Ramzi Nizzar, who succumbed to pancreatic cancer on July 10th, 2023, just a year ago, at age 54. We connected on both intellectual and spiritual levels, and I had the privilege of his company on several occasions as he valiantly battled his cancer in his final two years. Then, there is Chris, my son, born on July 16th and escaped from this earthly life on July 27th, 2010, only 31 years young. Creative in many ways as a writer, poet, and philosopher, he experimented with online social media very early on, starting this amazing art and literary website in 2008, and that is the reason why you are reading this column right now. His insights and wisdom keep astonishing me, as I probe more into his work in written, audio, and video forms. All three deceased loved ones shared an unusual sensibility and sensitivity, with uncommon depth relative to their age. We can all imagine what further gifts they had to offer had it not been for an early exit.

A major theme in our universe is its cyclical pattern. Birth and death of stars, planets, and species on earth, human civilizations and empires as they come and go, countries formed and disintegrated throughout history, even ideas and concepts follow that principle. Basically nothing stays the same in small and big ways, a most difficult concept for the limited human mind to acknowledge. But accept it we must, as we pass through darkness to see the light, the true bright natural light of our being, just as the dawn of morning follows the darkness of night.  

How we respond to such losses is as personal and variable as humans are diverse in so many other ways. My own experience leads me to this: allowance of time and space to work in an alchemy of sorts, with less interference and more intuition than reason, leading slowly, gradually, and exponentially to a transformation, a higher spiritual existence, and a connection to both a higher power and our earthly companions in deeper, kinder ways than before the tragedy. It is by far the best way to honor and remember them. That, my friends, is the gift of grief.  

I keep your memories alive with gratitude, Lena, Chris, Ramzi Nizzar, and the month of July. 

Listen to audio version here

Basel Al-Aswad, father of EIL founder Christopher Al-Aswad, is a yogi trapped in an Orthopedic Surgeon’s body. His loves in life include reading, writing, hiking, enjoying nature, meditation, and spending time with his large Iraqi family; now, semi-retired, he is exploring new avenues in medicine, education, public speaking, teaching, and social engagement.