“ABOUT OMAR KHALED SOELAEMAN : The Prankster Cousin I Grew Up With” (1984 – 2017) in "THE WORDPLAY WARRIOR AND THE EX-GUARDIAN OF THE ISOLATED CASTLE"

Our parents live close by in the same neighbourhood. We’ve grown up together. Just like me, you knew how it felt to have two siblings. The differences? Your brother is the eldest and almost the same age as my sister. My brother is younger than me.
We didn’t just hang out a lot in the neighbourhood as kids. With our siblings and other cousins, we used to hang out a lot at our grandparents’ old house, staying in the same big room together.
Throughout the years, The Soelaeman Grandkids had stuck to the same tradition at almost every family gathering – whether it was someone’s wedding preparation or a holiday out of town. When some of us got bored with hearing the grown-ups’ serious talk, we’d all skip together. Anyone who was a better driver and had the lisence would be behind the steering wheel as we headed downtown. It was either we went out for a bite or a movie at a nearby cinema.
Those were the good times, eh? Not to mention all the games we’d played and the stupid fights we had – all normal little kids do. I guess what they say is always true:
“Never underestimate the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”
Time flies. Each of us soon grew up and went through different life phases and at a different pace too.
You got lucky. You met Ladia and decided to spend the rest of your life with her. Then Khanza was born and you were overjoyed – a proud papa with the apple of his eye.
When Ma told me about you that Sunday morning, I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were so young, much younger than me and more athletic too. How could this be? Perhaps, the only consolation I have now is that God loves you so much that He’s decided to keep you close.
When I saw your parents that morning, I saw parents who lost their youngest. Your brother could barely stop crying, hugging me close as he asked me to forgive you for all the stupid jokes you’d said and pranks you’d pulled.
I had to admit that I did hate most of them. You used to get on my nerves a lot when we were kids. What I failed to tell your brother that day was this:
I’d give anything in the world for at least another one from you. I promise that this time, I wouldn’t be angry or treat you like a pest. I’d just laugh with you instead. I don’t care, as long as you’re still there.
This is why they call it a ‘wishful thinking’. I’m the one who’s sorry that I’ve failed to see. All you ever wanted was to really connect with me, to make me smile the way you have others. I remember that you always slung your arm around me at the sight of my pouty face, grinning as you said, “Come on, Bibi. I was just joking.”
Ladia wonders how to explain to Khanza once she is old enough to learn why you had to leave so early. Don’t worry; you’ve left the best legacy. I hope this is one of the good enough pieces that she can read someday. I can – and will – tell her this about her daddy:
He lived his life to light up the world around him with his smile and how much he cared for others.
And he had.
Thank you for the laughter and good memories, my dear cousin. Sleep well. You know we love you and will always keep you in our prayers too.
With love,
“Bibi”
(In the loving memory of OMAR KHALED SOELAEMAN (October 27, 1984 – December 3, 2017). A son, a brother, a cousin, a husband, and a father of one.)