I’ll Never Get to See Lebanon

5 years ago, I wrote my college application essay about finding out that I would never be able to travel to Lebanon with my Jeddo — Arabic for “grandfather.”

He had broken the news to me during the summer before my senior year of high school.

My entire childhood, my Jeddo talked about his dream of taking his grandchildren back to his home country to show us the vibrant, lively culture where he was raised. It was supposed to be my graduation present. Even when my parents were worried about the violence, my Jeddo was persistent: he was going to take me to Beirut.

Then, the violence got worse.

And today? Today is the day I’ve worried about for over five years.

When we visited their house during summers and holidays, I jumped for joy knowing I was soon to feast on tabbouleh, kibbe, hummus, and pita bread! My Nana, who grew up in Pittsburgh, fully embraced my Jeddo’s culture and frequently cooked his family’s recipes. You could taste the love.

My Jeddo turns 90 in two days.

Just like reality hit me 5 years ago, it pains me the same today. My Jeddo won’t be able to travel to Lebanon again. I will never get to see his country through his eyes.

There might not be a Lebanon to see.

My heart aches for my extended family still living in Beirut. I can only hope they remain safe throughout the attacks.

I know this is a deviation from my usual content but this matter is so close to my heart. I want no part in any hateful speech towards Israelis and Jewish people. That is not my intent.

Please be mindful and do your research when discussing this issue.

And pray for Lebanon.