Monthly Archives: April 2008

In memoriam

Yara Khoury
1966 – 2008

Sometimes we take for granted the people that we meet, no matter how significant or otherwise they were in our lives. It can be a very good friend, a family member, a colleague, or even the tailor who’s done all our alterations for the last ten years. We grow accustomed to their presence, and then when they leave us for some reason or other, we realize what an impact, no matter how small it might have been, they had made on our lives.

In my case, it was Yara, my belly-dancing teacher of two years, who succumbed to ovarian cancer yesterday after a nine-year battle. I hadn’t seen her in over four years, ever since I moved to the United States, and I never got the chance to tell her how much I appreciated and admired her for everything she had done, because and in spite of what she’d had to go through. This is to the brave woman who refused to let cancer beat her, and instead chose to fight it by throwing herself into and sharing her love for the exquisite art of dancing.

Thank you, Yara.

A reminder

Big decisions are the worst to make. We ponder for ages over whether or not to do something, seek advice from people, only to end up taking our own. Then we make our decision and we know that it was the best one (probably because there wasn’t really a choice to begin with), and we work towards it, trying to ignore any doubts we may have, and trying to keep the faith and hang on for dear life to the hope that no matter how (unfortunately) long it takes, everything will be all right in the end. And just when we start second-guessing ourselves and possibly start wondering — albeit a tad too late — if we really had made the right decision after all, that tiny little thing happens to make us reassess, regroup and remember why we did it in the first place, and why we thought it was the best thing to do.

This came today via Facebookmail, from someone whom I had gone to school with, but haven’t spoken to in what must be nearly two years:

Hey friend,

I’m procrastinating from a 10 page paper due in a a couple of hours, but I found the courage and curiosity to skim through your musings. I don’t claim to know much, except, I’m sorry to hear about all that has happened, and reading about how you aligned every fiber of your being to hold on… inspired me – in a different way, and that I want you to know that you’ll always have a friend here. Good luck in the future, I know you’ll shine.


The epitome of an oxymoron

a.k.a. my life right now