Back in 2004, a friend of mine was shot and killed during an armed robbery that took place in his home in Africa. He was Lebanese, so arrangements were made for his body to be flown back to Lebanon for burial.
I knew him well, and he was a dear friend. We were all enveloped in deep sadness and shock. He died at a very young age, and the whole affair was devastating for his family, especially his mother, who was inconsolable. I attended the burial to pay my respects. Hundreds of people came from all over to support the family: religious figures, politicians, and celebrities. People recited verses from their holy books, read poetry, and sang to honour my friend. The funeral was filled with colour, featuring bunting, banners, flags, and flowers. The atmosphere was sombre; everyone was hurting, and we all cried. I made my way to his mother and family to offer my condolences. When she saw me, she became very emotional, hugged me tightly, and began repeating, “I feel him. I feel his spirit in you. My son is not dead. My son will come back to me.”
She was convinced that her son would return. Their religion believes in reincarnation, and I listened as she spoke, feeling broken and helpless inside. I wished I could do something to ease her pain. At that stage in my life, I was aware of my ability, but I was too shy to be open about it because it was socially unacceptable. I stood before her, wanting to speak, yet unable to find the words.
Later that day, I went home and wondered what I was doing with my life. I could help others, yet I was living as a businessman, following in my father’s footsteps. I was not happy with myself. I felt disappointed, as though I was letting everyone around me down. This was not my first loss. I had lost many friends to the war, but this one was the most painful because of his mother’s reaction.
Eventually, I left the family business and returned to England. I needed to be somewhere I could truly be myself, and that was the beginning of my journey as a reader. I began serving as a healer in a church in London and learned that nothing in this world is more rewarding than being of service to those who need it.
I no longer hide from who I am, and I will never be anyone other than myself. I am a reader, an instrument of the greater good, here to serve God and humanity, and I am honoured to do so.
“In loving memory of Raed Nasreddine. Fly high, dear friend.”
