My Old Man

Hi, it’s me again, back!

I’m writing about a man who made a lot of what I AM, writing to tell him that I remember, and to tell him ‘Thank You’.

Geddo (Grandfather) I remember..

I remember the man who used to pick me up from school when I was a young girl.. I remember the man who used to hold my hand while crossing the street even when I grew up, a man who was always responsible for me, a man who always cared, .. the man who’d always support & protect his granddaughter.. the little child in me.

I remember that day when you were picking me up from school, I was about 7 or something, you were holding my hands while I was walking & telling you about my day at school, and I was in my fantasy world as usual when I stumbled & was about to fall on the ground & hit my face with the school yard grits..but I didn’t, cause you were there holding me up.

I remember the man who used to take me to downtown bookstores & buy me stories.. the man who made me love reading.

I remember the man who let me mess around his stuff, I was the only grandchild who had this privilege, a variety of pencils, pens & markers you used in drafting your books, & building your electronics educational models, from 0.1 to 3mm pens, your glues, engineering utilities, rulers sets, scissors, loads of blank paper packages that you let me play with, wide A3 & A4  blank papers that you let me use unlimited to make boats, draw, paint, & create a whole origami world.. I remember the man who let me imagine.. create & play.

I remember the engineer who incepted the engineer in me.

I remember the man who used to take me to toy stores & large supermarkets and generously buy me toys.. a lot of toys J

I remember the man who bought me my first bicycle, mechanical pencil ... & my first walkman set .. & my first gameboy J

I remember the man who used to stay up the night to author his technical books, training materials, or build his educational models on the sounds of the finest music, light & classical, the man who made hundreds of recorded tapes of music, classifying them & ranking them with, with his deep smokers voice, or his beautiful handwriting on the tape’s cover; Good , very Good, excellent music, music (mazag) for the very high mood.

I remember the man /the engineer/ the artist who brought me up on the tunes & melodies of music across time, countries & cultures.

I remember the man who shared with me his collections of Latin, tango, salsa, light, and master pieces of classical music.

I remember the man who built us a house of our own, designed specially and just for us, with a style of his.

I remember the man who built a sunshade in his roof terrace where we used to stand together to watch the rain.

I remember the man who used to stand in his roof terrace and smoke his cigarettes by the time of my school exit, & watch his little girl coming home.. & wave. I always wondered how he could recognize me among all those students & children.

I remember when I was a teen, with all the confusion, anxiety & buzz in my head, sitting with him under the sunshade while he drank his coffee & smoked his ‘Cleopatra Super’ cigarettes, telling me stories of his life, stories that tells me how it’s important to work hard, do your best faithfully, & how “luck” plays its role at the right time only for those who work hard.. he taught me  to believe that God will help me, cause HE always does, Geddo used to tell me stories about how God helped him & granted him everything.

I remember the man who used to show me his photographs in France under the Eiffel tower, London, Venice, and America.

I remember the man who told me his travels stories, & incepted the dreams of traveling inside me.

I remember the man who used to pick me in his beautiful red Regata car & drive all over Heliopolis in mornings.. in a very special time of morning.. 11 am.. where everybody were probably at work then & the streets were almost ours.. like it was made just for us to drink coffee at a café there or for me to eat an ice cream, that time of day memories & feeling of sunlight is strangely carved in my heart like it’s only mine.

I remember heading to Sonesta’s bakery for a fresh backed French bread. Together.. hand in hand.

I remember your suits and ties, and your perfume scent, & how you elegantly used to dress, before going to your Electronics (Radio & TV ) institute in the Strand Building, where you took me with you sometimes, I remember watching you lecturing, & waiting in your office, where a medium blackboard & so many colored chalk I used to play with <3 span="span">

I remember your glue gun & screwdrivers sets.. and how you used to fix everything.

 These are the things I don’t want to forget, & never will.

I remember everything you incepted & planted in me.

I remember the man who chose to be responsible for me.. love , care & give.

I remember you Grandpa.

Thank You.

Rest In Peace.

I pray Allah to reward you & give you goodness as you were very good & generous to me.

I send you Surat Ar-Rahman verse 60 as a prayer, as my letter of love & gratefulness to you.

shall the recompense of goodness be anything other than goodness? (60)

هَلْ جَزَاء الْإِحْسَانِ إِلَّا الْإِحْسَانُ ﴿60﴾