Death failed to silence love—Ameer answers from above.
Under this wide, blue sky, and beneath the shade of this tree, rests Ameer.
During those cursed days of genocide, I once asked you to take photos of yourself—with the sky above you.
That day, I felt you were alike:
Equally pure, equally vast, both of you carrying more dreams than this small world could ever contain.
Now you lie beneath the very same sky you once held inside a photograph.
The sky did not change.
Only the world did—by losing you, by forgetting the weight of your light.
Ya Allah, how deeply I miss you.
How I ache for him—every heartbeat, every silent breath, resonates his absence.
Your absence is tearing me apart, piece by piece, day by day, in ways I never knew pain could reach.
You always said you wanted to be an engineer.
And I always imagined you, the finest engineer the world could ever know, shaping dreams into reality.
I still see you that way. Nothing—not even death—can take that from you.
I have so much to say. Too much for words.
Do you know how much I miss you, Ameer?
How does life go on? How—oh, how—does the world keep turning, spinning on its indifferent axis, when you are no longer here to hold it still?
Lubna Ahmad Abu Dahrouj
Image courtesy of Lubna Ahmad Abu Dahrouj
January 31, 2026
