Othman's grandpa died this morning.
"Bassidi", as Othman and his siblings call him, was one of the first people I felt comfortable around here in Morocco. He was a kind and supremely gentle man, whose eyes and whole being emanated wisdom and love. As the oldest of 14, he was in large part the glue that held the numerous and sprawling Berrada clan together. He is already greatly missed and will be for a long time to come.
As I looked through the pictures on my computer to illustrate this post I felt a deep sense of sadness as I realized I don't have any pictures of he, Othman, and I. I know some have been taken over the years but don't know where to find any. However, I do love these sweet moments that I captured last fall of him with his granddaughter (Othman's cousin) and great-grandson.
And this one, by Alli, of father and son at our wedding, which he hosted at his home. It makes me smile—Bassidi was always after something sweet to eat.
Today I feel torn; heartbroken for Othman and his family who are grieving deeply today at the loss of the family's beloved patriarch, grateful that Bassidi passed in his sleep and is free from the pain he had been in for the past few days, and thankful that I was given the chance to know and love such a beautiful soul.