The Rendezvous That Wasn’t

This war has taken a serious toll on young Lebanese couples.

My cousin fled the country with her parents. She was engaged to a Beiruti who refused to leave his parents under the shelling. Now they’re living in separate countries. Their engagement was just 2 weeks ago. My friend works in Paris. Her fiancé is stuck in Lebanon; they had plans to get married this summer, now they’re postponed until further notice. My brother’s wife came to Lebanon to visit her parents. Now she’s stuck and she can’t go back to Africa where they live.

This war is taking a particularly strong toll on Lebanese couples. My cousin, my friend and my brother are just a few cases. In Lebanon, unless you’re married to someone, you flee wherever your parents flee, to the mountains, to neighboring countries or to faraway lands.

It is the very fabric of our society that accentuates this forced separation. A lot of people who come from different parts of Lebanon, meet in cosmopolitan Beirut and fall in love, only to be “recalled” by their parents in times of war. Most of them either have foreign passports or live in the other end of the country.

Also, summer in Lebanon is marriage season. Most Lebanese work outside of Lebanon, and most prospective couples look forward to summer to tie the knot. To marry in Lebanon in summer, you had to book a place months in advance. Wedding halls are usually booked every single day between July and September. Needless to say. Not anymore. 5 weddings to which I was invited were cancelled.

When my friend heard that I got engaged while Lebanon was being bombed, she thought our story would make a good Hollywood movie. Perhaps, but I’d rather have real fireworks, not ones dropped by Israeli Jet planes.

Two fellow bloggers (whose names I wont mention but who can come out if they want :) ) had romantic designs for this summer. That too will sadly have to wait. To them and to other Lebanese couples separated by this war, I offer them these words from Gebran Kahlil Gebran, another great Lebanese who tasted bitter separation from Lebanon and from his loved one:
“And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”