Last conversation

It is usually “Last words” that we hear about, that people memorize, maybe misquote later on. But it gives them closure.

But for someone who has never been there for the final words, a last conversation could be the thing they retain to in seek for closure.

What’s not so pleasant about last conversations is that you don’t know you’re having one; you have no idea that the person in front of you is saying goodbye in his own way.  It’s not until that person passes away that you realize that the conversation you had few days ago, a month ago, was a sign, a farewell maybe.

For this post, I chose to write these unusual sweet last words, or may I say last conversations.


Last conversation 1 : She and her grandpa “Juanito”:

Her family was having a big meal that evening. She politely refused to eat because she set herself a stupid 13 days diet challenge, and wanted to keep her dignity by not losing her challenge to that meal. She sat at the other table, with her grandpa. He was having his usual coffee, no sugar added, along with a Moroccan msemen and a cupcake.

Her grandpa, who always complained to her parents about her poor eating habits, invited her to share his late afternoon meal. She said she was only having an apple. He made fun of her.

Their conversations would usually include old Clint Eastwood movies, cars and driving or just Spanish words, the grandpa talked occasionally Spanish to his granddaughter to see if she was progressing. But this time, he chose to start an out of the blue conversation.

The grandpa: Is this your last year of college?

Her: Yes, this is my last semester. I’ll have an internship during the second one.

The grandpa: Very good my dear, and then what do you want to do?

(Total silence, the other member of the family were trying to listen in to the conversation)

The girl laughed, and said that she doesn’t know yet. And she added that her 22nd birthday was in 2 weeks and she was expecting a present, maybe an old Mercedes from him.

They laughed.

The grandpa had a sip of his sugarless coffee, took a long pause like he was thinking of what to say and how to say it:

It is very important for you to study hard, to have degrees, to get a job. You’ll be independent, which is a good thing.  But if there’s anyone dear to you, who is willing to ask your hand in marriage, go for it, don’t hesitate, we are destined to love and be loved, and it’s not 7chuma (a word in Moroccan dialect which kind of means: Shameful).

The girl, surprised, with eyes wide open, was listening carefully to those words and then simply nodded with a smile.

This was their last conversation, before he passed away…

Last conversation 2 : She and her grandma:

“You look very beautiful, your new caftan is astonishing” she said, “and I loved your dancing” she added, with a very beautiful smile and expressive eyes.

The girl thanked her grandma and giggled; she couldn’t hide her blushing in front of the guests and went back to dancing with her family.

She never thought this was going to be her last sweet memory of her grandma.

The grandma passed away the following week…



Sacred memories


“So, how did you come to be so into theater?”

They were just hanging out when they asked her. Simple question it may seem to them but the answer might be tricky.

She paused, thought to give them a ridiculous answer. And then she thought about how to tell the story:

“Long time ago, when I was still sharing a passport with my parents, when my outfit was either a girly floral dress that my mum chose, or a kind of military style that sometimes my father chose (unlucky days), I joined a French theater group, along with my younger brother ( well now he’s taller and people think he’s older). I was 10 and he was 9. We were the youngest of the group, and it was very hard for our colleagues to take us seriously, they were all in middle school. I mean I was a child, and therefore shorter than the rest, no one could ever imagine I would grow up and be taller than some of my friends, while my brother wore harry potter glasses and was even shorter than me. It was like we were tiny humans surrounded by giant older people.

We had our theater class on Tuesdays, and it was the highlight of my week. And I would be very disappointed if the teacher weren’t going to make it.

The stage gave the illusion of a train wagon. I played a countess. The main story was that a lady in the same wagon as the countess proclaimed that her very expensive necklace was stolen during that train ride.

My character was supposed to be rich, but it was then revealed that she’s lost everything. And also, she was the thief who stole the lady’s necklace during a power cut.

For the purposes of the play, I wore a purple pencil skirt and a blazer, I had to have a hair updo, and wore make up for the first time in my life. I liked to pretend to be another person for couple of hours.

That last moment of the play, when you’re done reciting dialogues and you’re back to your normal self is just magical, that’s why I’m ready to get involved in more plays…”

One of her friends interrupted her joking: “Where did your mind go, did the cat get your tongue? You seemed distracted thinking of something, and we only asked about your love for theater.” They laughed. She smiled and failed to hide her embarrassment due to her unmanageable blushing.

Thinking of how this real story is full of nostalgic sweet childish memories, she simply said: “I just enjoy theater”. 

To my ‘nonexistent’ big sister

Hi, I’m your young sister, not the youngest though, we have a younger brother and sister, but I’m the only one who knows you. In my head, there are 4 of us, but for everybody else, there are only 3 of us.

You see, they have no idea you exist, they don’t even need your existence if I may say, because they got me, their older sister.

As for me, I really need you to exist, no matter how, in my dreams, in my writings, in my head, I just really need you imaginary big sister.

I don’t know your name, I didn’t think of giving you any name yet, for now you’re just big sister.

So big sister, I imagine you as a dreamer, someone who loves to travel, discover new things. What a shame, you could’ve been the one who gives me a push towards my own dreams; I know you would’ve helped me.

I imagine you giving me lot of advice, encouraging me a lot. let me tell you, people here aren’t that encouraging, they fear a lot, and they’re living an ordinary life, most of them. And I know for sure, that if you were real, you’d be too awesome to be living a dull life.

I know also that your life could’ve been splendid, far from being run of the mill; you would’ve been my idol, the one whose footsteps I would follow.

Sometimes we would fight, but that’s okay, because we always forget what we’re fighting about and laugh at the smallest things.

You would’ve been the one to tell me how to deal with stuff bothering me, and how to act smart in some situations.

You would’ve been the perfect sister to teach me how to be myself, how to pursue my dreams, how to stick with the things that make me happy, you would’ve cared about me, because you, from all the others, you care, and know what to do.

I’m not killing your character just yet, I’ll keep you alive for little while.

See you big sister.



Story time

When he was having a military training, V heard some shocking news. His father, who was not even 50 years old, had died. So V went home to his sisters, brother and mother, took on charge the funeral, and was back to his military training the following day.

It happened all so quickly, that V didn’t get the time to accept his father’s death, to mourn and to grieve with his family.

The training he had that day, was held in the wild. The place was a bit familiar to V. It was close to the cemetery. That’s when it all got real for V; his late father is underground, right next to where he’s supposed to train.

V didn’t hesitate to ask his boss if he could go to his father’s tomb to read some verses of Quran. To his surprise, The answer was no.
He got upset; his boss seems to had lost his mercy and pity somewhere along the way, V felt like his father was already forgotten, his memory was being erased.
V calmed himself down, and continued his training. All he could think of that day was the meaningless cruelty of his chief, but eventually, he could let it go.
Years and years went by, and V got himself a beautiful wife, a big house, and had amazing children, and never forgot his father, he was always speaking about him, showing pictures of him to his kids and telling them about his memories with his old man.
But most of all, V made it a habit, to take his children on a regular basis to the tomb of his father, and listen to them reading some small verses of Quran that they learned in school.
Listening to his kids, V realized that he succeeded, through the years, to resurrect the memory of his father.