Artist Marcel Khalifa mourned his younger sister Claude, who passed away today, Wednesday. Khalifa shared a heartfelt message on his Facebook account, expressing his condolences with emotional words. He said: "Claude, my little sister... your big heart is like a child's in the pain of its mystery, blushing to establish its existence... The fruits of your sweet vines and the harvest of your life will never be lost... I will always wait for you every evening to return from your work at the Noval pharmacy near the old bridge... You enter, bringing with you the first language of life, the great love, where no language comes before it... You enter, bringing your beautiful things, where there is no ugliness in the world... You enter, bringing with you the winds of silence that resound in your amazing space: the space of the earth you came from, entering like an eternal child into the warm embrace of motherhood, reminding us of existence, unity, pain, and joy, which is truly the essential emotion of the desire for life."
He added: "Death, my sister, cannot confiscate the right to love, just as lovers part but love remains... We grew up, my sister, before we noticed; we were not allowed to grow at a leisurely pace, time deceived us, and we found ourselves having grown up... You are delicate like light passing through the soul. Your wings are full of the desire to soar... You drowned yourself in the deep shadow... I understand the voice of your stars, your trees' silence, and the fragrant fleeting passing of your life revealing its poignant secret... Claude, my gentle silent sister, I know that the days hindered your steps with their suffocating dust, but their broken breath descended upon you, making your thoughts fragrant... Thank you for the joy that lives behind the veil of light; I will continue in my overflowing journey, shaded by your lush shadows."
He continued: "Claude would rejoice when I returned from any journey, always seeing me as a knight returning from an epic journey. I always begged her to stop glorifying me. I am just her brother, and she is just my sister. I embrace her, and she embraces me, always welcoming me with her habitual phrase: 'Why did you take so long to return, my brother?!' My sister is my sister, and for her, the time we spent together before the events of '75 is the lost paradise. The war struck her in the heart, especially when I was forcibly displaced from Amchit, and she stayed with our father in the house, resisting the dull voices that tried to invade our home with weapons numerous times while I was away. Claude resisted them with pride and spiritual courage, which the strength of a horse supplied her."
He concluded: "Do not tire, or do not allow fatigue to speak of complaint, but rather of the joy of the time that displaced her for twenty years. With sharp sarcasm, she made suffering refrain from humiliation. My sister is my sister when we are together; however, in the presence of others, she plays the role of a witness, maintaining a distance that keeps me a guest among her siblings and a public figure that does not advocate for her right to possess it... I told my sister: There must be salvation from a leap of a brave spirit... Whoever cuts through this pain searching for salvation finds guidance... My sister retreats into shyness or perhaps repeats to herself the sigh stamped with a spirit that reveals to her the Absolute... A difficult balance between the desired and the ultimate... There must be hope, even if impossible, to say thank you to life."
He ended: "Finally, as you instructed me, my sister, I stand now in your name to thank those who accompanied you on this final journey, and I invite them to shorten the prayer and turn to sip a glass of wine worthy of your memory... O my sister sleeping on the dawn of whiteness from eternity, in whatever way I protect your essence from oblivion... Thank you for life because you are my sister... and thank you for all this love... Marcel Khalifa."
