DM to Dad In Heaven Dr. Walid Phares/Face Book/October 07/2020
Today is the 30th anniversary of your last journey on Earth. You left us on that October 3rd in 1990, while in the hospital in Batroun, Lebanon, surrounded first by my mother then by the rest of the family, except me.
Between us were armies and militias blocking me from the last palabra with you. I did everything I could to be present at the last goodbye, but destiny decided otherwise. Had I walked behind the casket for your last ride on Earth, I would have had to relinquish all the thought I had developed, all the books, all the articles, and pledge allegiance to totalitarians. You passed in an occupied zone while I was living my last days the country in the free zone. Had I satisfied my emotions and come to pay respects, I would never have had a second chance in my life to promote freedom, this time in my adopted country America, the world’s symbol for liberty. It was a choice that kept a wound open in my heart for thirty years, but that was destiny too, decided by higher powers.
When you passed, I had no idea that ten days later I would leave the mother country for my adopted one. During that red October, I thought liberation of the old country was finally close and I would soon be praying at your grave. But your unexpected death was an omen of another unexpected death, the death of liberty in the country of my birth. On October 13, the invasion spread across the free areas, forcing me to make another decision. Live under occupation or leave to freedom.
Our peaceful life as a family stretched for over 30 years between the old quarters of Beirut and the sunny hills of Mount Lebanon. Nothing could have compelled me to emigrate during the golden years of our daily lives in Peace. Visiting the world, yes, but uprooting myself, no. But lives of millions, before and after my personal journey to the new world, have experienced a similar destiny: Leaving everything dear to remain free. That is the story of large swaths of humanity, and it is the story of welcoming nations like America and its sister host countries in the free world.
Since you left, Dad, the world has changed many times. The Cold War ended, the War on Terror started, social media was born, the Arab Spring exploded, mass violence reemerged, regional wars spread, but no, we haven’t yet landed on Mars, even three decades later. In the old country, tragedies deepened: 15 years of occupation followed by 15 years of terror. It is worse now than when you were alive.
In my adopted country, we have oscillated between war and peace. The 1990s were calm and peaceful, but the following 20 years were rough. America was badly hit on 9/11 by Jihadists. It responded twice in the East, with very long wars, which in many respects are still ongoing. But politicians in America split into two camps. One camp was determined to overcome the threat, and the other camp preferred to turn their eyes away hoping to postpone the clash. With the presidential election in 30 days, we are hurtling headlong toward a huge choice.
You were a sensitive man, lived under Peace throughout your life and had to live a war during your most senior years. You preferred poetry and prose over the sharp diatribes of politicians. I inherited a difficult gene combined from you and mother, who joined you in heaven in 2007: Sensitive on the inside, determined to fight for truth on the outside. I acted more like your uncle, Reverend Joseph Phares, the Jesuit social worker and intellectual advisor to decision makers. Yes, in my American life, I literally spent 30 years trying to spread awareness around me and across the nation.
I published books, lectured, and advised leaders and governments. I inherited your fairness and justice-seeking heart and mind, and unfortunately the default of trusting too fast.
Yes, I became an American, and for most of my adult life, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I am keen to remember my roots, and yours, as long as I live, but I have adopted and was adopted by the greatest country in the world, and despite its follies at times, it remains my homeland and the home of the brave and the land of the free.
Until we meet again, Dad.
Virginia, October 3, 2020
