This week, as the days get longer and the sun melts whatever little snow remains in this weird and warm Ottawa winter, I’ve found myself thinking of my Geddo Ahmed, my mother’s father. My memories of Geddo (grandpa in Egyptian Arabic) are scattered across geography, across the terrain of my life. Some of these memories live in Alexandria, on the huge, crumbling verandah of the old Grecian villa where he lived for many years and where we visited him each time we went to Egypt. Others live in the family room of my childhood home in Ottawa, in the patch of sun that slanted in through the sliding doors from the back deck when he came to live with us. Geddo would sit in that patch of sun all winter long, clinging to what little warmth this country would give him, staring at the blindingly white snow.
This is so sweet. Your beautifully illustrates how small, personal items like your grandfather's pumice stone carry the weight of legacy and longing across generations. I, too, am often writing about legacy themes. ❤️
“Immigrants say a momentous goodbye one time, and then spend the rest of their lives repeating it.” What a beautiful sentence packed with a heart wrenching truth , Noha. And, I very much relate to it. Thank you! . I hope the digital collage art shares the same sentiment as your story.
Thank you, Bernie. yes, I’ll read it to the kids when they are ready - any sooner and they might be sad.. They’ve been lucky enough to have their grandparents nearby for the majority of their lives and I dont’ think they’re even aware.
Moving and so universal. In Ukrainian grandfathers are called Gido.
Bryan, that is so cool! I had no idea the Egyptian and Ukrainian words were the same!
This is so sweet. Your beautifully illustrates how small, personal items like your grandfather's pumice stone carry the weight of legacy and longing across generations. I, too, am often writing about legacy themes. ❤️
Thank you, Kevin. Your Newsletter name is fascinating. Gonna take a peek.
I’m glad I found your page today. A new subscriber here. Beautiful detailed story of your mother and grandfather.
Thank you, Maggie. I'm so glad it spoke to you.
Thank you for sharing yourself as you introduce us to the grandfather, Noha. A gentle privilege.
The privilege is all mine...
Lovely. I feel like I can see him.
The artwork by Stella Kallaw is uncannily spot on. She captured him perfectly - I am stunned.
"...clinging to what little warmth this country would give him..." Beautiful and heartbreaking, Noha.
Thank you, Stephanie. I've often wondered about what how jarring the change in climate must have felt. It's a whole other life.
“Immigrants say a momentous goodbye one time, and then spend the rest of their lives repeating it.” What a beautiful sentence packed with a heart wrenching truth , Noha. And, I very much relate to it. Thank you! . I hope the digital collage art shares the same sentiment as your story.
Stella, it 100% does. I felt like I could see Geddo in the picture.
Poetic , lyrical and poignant … thank you for taking the time , sharing this gem .
Hyman
Thank you, Hyman! So glad that it spoke to you.
What a beautiful, sad piece of writing. Thank you for sharing this
Thank you. Yes, it’s always a bit sad.
How beautifully you captured the essence of your grandfather and your family story. This in itself is a legacy gift to your children.
Thank you, Bernie. yes, I’ll read it to the kids when they are ready - any sooner and they might be sad.. They’ve been lucky enough to have their grandparents nearby for the majority of their lives and I dont’ think they’re even aware.
Beautifully written and a privilege to read such intimate thoughts about your mother and your Geddo.
Thank you, Joe.
What a lovely story, Noha; it captures so much in a few short paragraphs. And Kristin has made just the right comment about it too. Thank you!
Thank you, Lin. Glad you enjoyed it.
So fitting that something that cares for worn feet would be the totem your mother took to help ease her first steps in a new land.
Thank you, Kristin. I never thought of it that way but my goodness, it's true!