Five Years
Five years ago, my son died. Some months after Isaac’s death in the Beirut Blast, I put pen to paper for the first time to try and understand my grief. My first words were “Five months ago, my son died”. I wrote that these words were so incomprehensible to me that they might as well…
Two years and three months
Another Israeli airstrike has hit central Beirut. My social media feeds are filled with images of fiery explosions, collapsed buildings, a crater in the ground and frantic rescue workers. At least 29 people dead. I see the strike was in Basta, on Mamoun Street. I think I know where that is, and I jump on…
The Butterfly Effect
If a butterfly flapping its wings can – in theory – set off a chain of events that leads to a tornado on the other side of the world, what impact would a cataclysmic explosion have on a single life? It has been four years since my two-year-old son Isaac was killed in the Beirut…
Confronting My Privilege
For Bissan I sit on the balcony of our historic and luxurious hotel room just outside the city of Beirut, up in the mountains, away from the smog and petrol fumes that perpetually choke the city. Here, the air is crisp and clean. Fuchsia Bougainvillea spills over walls and climbs up fences and the scent…
Ethan
Ethan snuggles under my arm. After breastfeeding for a while, he wriggles into a comfortable position. His little hand starts to grope around in the dark, moving across my face, to my ears, and then settling on my hair. I can feel him playing with my hair, twirling it in my fingers, sometimes pulling it…
What Might it be Like?
Like many people, the last few days I have been fixated on the news coming out of Ukraine – doom scrolling Twitter, discussing the events with my husband, and spending many hours thinking about the people – the families fleeing, the civilians taking up arms, the baby born in the metro station. Over the coming…
Rivers of Glass
The glass crunches beneath my feet, thousands of tiny shards piercing my skin, leaving a trail of crimson footprints in my wake. I am running, racing for help, my two-year-old son in my arms, whimpering quietly. A woman sees me and screams, her face recoiling. I don’t know it at the time, I can’t feel…
Counting Our Losses
I miss my engagement ring. I feel like I shouldn’t say that, but I do. It was beautiful. A half carat solitaire diamond set in a simple band of white gold. My husband bought it in Singapore, and, typical of him, he didn’t just buy something that looked pretty, but did considerable research beforehand. He…
To My Darling Boy
To my darling boy, my fat fat, my bubbalou, my heart and soul, How can I possibly put into words everything that you mean to me or begin to describe the gaping hole that has forever been left in my heart? Absolutely nothing I write will ever be remotely adequate. My Darling Boy, you did…
Justice for Isaac
One year ago, a devastating explosion ripped through the city of Beirut, killing over 200 people, including my two-year-old son Isaac Oehlers, the youngest victim of the blast. Every night since that horrific day, I have gone through the same ritual. Climbing into bed, I cuddle one of Isaac’s favourite teddy bears close to me…
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Sarah Yvonne 