Waleed J. Iskandar
(By classmate, Stanford 1986)

Where did all the tears go?
I wish grief could be poured out all at once,
in one gigantic waterfall.
Instead we’re left with a numbness
and trickles of reminders that hit us in the silence
in unexpected and untimely moments
that you are forever gone,
and then the tears flow.

But you wouldn’t want to be remembered so,
that image of how you died,
a continual reminder replayed in our media,
sadness
whenever I hear “America the Beautiful.”

For if I were to keep one snapshot of you,
it would be of you reclining, yes, reclining
in those upright seats in that auditorium
never mind the professor standing in front with his prim bow tie.
Looking relaxed as if you were ready to take a nap,
with lazy confidence and that twinkle in your eyes.

Your faith was contagious.
Those who knew you believed in something bigger than ourselves.
Being with you didn’t allow for any other possibility.
You made us believe.
You made me believe.

Back then, I was preoccupied with getting through silly accounting trifles.
Years later, you would make me believe in something grander,
That we are all connected even in our deaths.

Waking me up in the middle of the night,
“Send that letter to my dad, send it to him now.”
How could I say “no” to that?
It was only afterwards that I’d discover it was your birthday,
A birthday I never knew nor celebrated with you.
And therein I found my ultimate affirmation of faith.

Yes, I’ll keep checking on your dad.
I’m honoring his request, no, demand, to write this.
I’ll promise to keep faith,
To dream big
To not be so afraid
And when fears do overwhelm me,
To remember that image of you nudging me gently
With your grand contagious smile.

But now you have to honor my request.
Now I’m demanding,
Dammit! Show that smile of yours in your father’s dreams.
Set him free to live in the possibility
That you are very much alive
And very much with him.
That more than anyone, you most of all, want him to keep on living
To recover that Iskandar twinkle in his eyes,
The eyes of a proud father,
To see the joy in your nieces and nephews
And most of all, to find comfort in the arms of your mother.
That even in the midst of all this rubble and flowing tears,
Make us believe
Make him believe
That life is worth living
If not for his sake, for yours.

Remember that serenade for Anna Marie?
You and the boys all dressed up.
Birthday candles lit up in the darkness of the Quad.
Next time I get a picture from your dad
I want to see a sparkle of that same joy
Back in your father’s eyes.
Candles of hope lit one at a time.
That’s a promise you can keep for me.

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