Our First Best Friend
by Maddie, Bruno and Gracie
Omar was my first best friend. We knew each other before we knew each other. My mum and dad and Farah and Icky are best friends, they are my Godparents. So really whether we liked it or not we were going to grow up together. Fortunately, Omar was the best first best friend I could ever have asked for. He was a kind, funny, empathetic genius and I feel so privileged to have known him.
Finding the right words for today has been hard. I can’t believe I’ve taken for granted so many memories that I’m now searching so hard for. There are no words that will do justice to our friendship but I can try and give you some idea.
Our childhood was filled with adventures and exploring, everywhere we went. Beaches, forests and parks all became so wild as we were led by our curiosity and imagination. We would pretty much have daily kids teas at Platsville Rd and Cassville Rd with the classic pesto pasta and fish fingers around dining tables that had been stabbed repeatedly with the forks of the four hungry children. He was the most genius person I’ve ever met from a young age. We would be nerdy together and shared a love of maths at a time when loving maths was still so uncool to anyone else. But it didn’t matter because we had each other.
We grew up together. Omar moving to London never changed that. We were oldest siblings together who helped to pave the way for our brothers and sisters. It would grow into a rivalry between us and Gracie and Talib, but I’m going to let Gracie tell you about that.
Our families are campers. The Sayeed Iqbals, the Norfolks, the Stokes, the LBJs and the Grue Owens. There’s enough of us that it was basically a mini festival every year. The days would be filled with cricket, cards and campfires. Our late-night tent chats would consist of horror stories, more maths and rewriting the lyrics to our favourite songs, most notably, a Certain Romance by the Arctic Monkeys. And Omar, being the nesh child he was, would always have his duvet, the biggest air bed of us all and pyjama bottoms tucked in socks.
I know that everyone today is going to be talking about the amazing boy that Omar was and I am in complete agreement. He truly was the kindest, most caring and the most genius boy I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. But let it not go without saying, that whilst trying to figure out what to say today, one thing me and my family did agree on, is that when he was young, he couldn’t half be a little shit when he wanted to be! And even then, it was never without his genius. For example, he once let Frankie’s gerbils, ‘the little fellas’ out of their cage at a birthday party.
Having him back in Liverpool the last two years has been a joy. Getting in from work and seeing him stood in the kitchen with all the family friends for someone’s (always Nolan’s) birthday, or him popping round to take the dog out with G, just meant we caught up more casually but more regularly. The social butterfly he became at university astonished me.
I love you Omar. You really were my first ever best friend and I will cherish the memories I have of you for the rest of my life. I will always yearn for the ones we will never make.
Maddie.
I've been fortunate enough to know Omar my whole life and we've always had a connection. Whether that is from our shared love of football, and it's worth noting our friendship endured despite my bitterness as a Spurs fan and his smugness as a Liverpool fan.
We also shared an interest in film, I knew I could always rely on Omar for a niche 70s European arthouse film recommendation, which I could then pass off to make myself seem considerably cooler.
We also both loved hip-hop. I hope Omar doesn't mind me sharing that he used to run a hip-hop based Instagram page pretty successfully, and I remember beaming with pride when my friend sent me one of his posts titled "What would a Madlib-produced Earl Sweatshirt album sound like?". Which for those not in the know, is a real nerdy but cool combination, which I also feel like is a good description of Omar. We all unanimously agreed - "It would be heavy bro."
Omar and I have always shared the reliability of being the older brother, and it's how he guided and looked after Talib and Afra that I will always remember, And despite Omar being a year younger than me, he was always so adept and proficient in helping out his siblings and that is something I have tried to emulate. I will always be grateful for the time we spent together, but particularly in that respect
Bruno.
For most of our childhood me and Omar were on opposing teams, a playful sibling feud. Maddie and Omar would cheat at monopoly and make up card games that Talib and I could just never win. Every summer our families would gather to make camp, we would play in the woods and build fires to tell stories around. Every summer, Omar got taller, smarter and funnier. Making him laugh was the greatest achievement, to be considered his friend, not just a younger sister. Then we stopped relying on your mums to stay in touch, I would get the train to London and he would greet me at the station and always offer to carry my bag for me. Together we headed south to Brighton to see our darling Kizzie Mai.
Our adult lives began.
Omar was encouraging and enthusiastic and a sympathetic ear whenever I needed one. He gave me confidence and perspective and an eagerness to enjoy life.
Thank you Omar.
I love you.
Gracie.
The Path - Kahlil Gibran
read by Faiq
There lived among the hills a woman and her son, and he was her first-born and her only child.And the boy died of a fever whilst the physician stood by.
The mother was distraught with sorrow, and she cried to the physician and besought him saying, "Tell me, tell me, what was it that made quiet his striving and silent his song?" And the physician said, "It was the fever." And the mother said, "What is the fever?" And the physician answered, "I cannot explain it. It is a thing infinitely small that visits the body, and we cannot see it with the human eye."
The physician left her. And she kept repeating to herself, "Something infinitely small. We cannot see it with our human eye." And at evening the priest came to console her. And she wept and she cried out saying, "Oh, why have I lost my son, my only son, my first-born?" And the priest answered, "My child, it is the will of God." And the woman said, "What is God and where is God? I would see God that I may tear my bosom before Him, and pour the blood of my heart at His feet. Tell me where I shall find Him." And the priest said, ""God is infinitely vast. He is not to be seen with our human eye."
Then the woman cried out, "The infinitely small has slain my son through the will of the infinitely great! Then what are we? What are we?" At that moment the woman's mother came into the room with the shroud for the dead boy, and she heard the words of the priest and also her daughter's cry. And she laid down the shroud, and took her daughter's hand in her own hand, and she said, "My daughter, we ourselves are the infinitely small and the infinitely great; and we are the path between the two."
Poem for My Son
by Rashid Iqbal
How can we hold this thing called grief?
Your parched lips chafing it's heavy waters.
Your impossible arms, kestrel wings folding against the weight of a heart.
Your fingers feather a breeze
P i a n i s s i m o
Toes crack in the dark
Is that you?
Your fugitive smile, familiar and fleeting, and so faint and so weightless, you never deserved its fade.
Can we procrastinate one more time, idle in another moment, stay an embrace at these final steps; last notes cradled against the brink of beyond?
Everything will wait- if we say it's for you.
There are so many of us ready to refuse. Our roots filigree in the shaded earth. How irreversibly you have entangled us.
We will light candles, share stories, sing comfort for your chorus.
We will call for another feast from your mother's tender hands.
We will find ourselves in circles, in multitudes, on beaches, beneath trees, with flowers at your door.
We will wait - because we are for you.
And I will walk fields and forests my beautiful boy – listening for your toes in the branches, your fingers in the leaves, your feathers on the tall poppies and in the long grass, your breath with mine.
I will lay you across my chest and whisper in your ear;
This was just our beginning.
Love is here.
Love is here.
Tributes
by Anto and Luca
I’m Anto, one of Omar’s many friends from University.
It is the greatest honour for both of us to be given the opportunity to speak on behalf of Omar’s university family, and at least attempt to put into words how meaningful and valuable our respective friendships with Omar were, and will continue to be. Of course in comparison to many people, we knew Omar for a relatively short period of time, but the profound impact that he had on us within the last two years is a perfect testament to the person he was. Amongst the pain and shock that we now may have ingrained inside us, lives a vibrant and joyful memory of the most special person. Omar truly was the most intelligent person I knew, and I can say that with complete confidence. Along with that intelligence came a combination of traits which formed the Omar we feel unbelievably fortunate to be able to call a friend for life. Omar was empathetic, introspective and caring in ways that I have never experienced before and will likely never experience again, with an emotional intelligence that made you feel comfortable speaking to him for hours, knowing that he would always have the time of day for the people he cared about, and the ability to always respond perfectly. I believe I speak for a lot of us here in saying that when recalling the most valuable and happiest memories from our time at university, Omar’s presence and involvement is a common theme. His presence was felt, and continues to be felt most strongly at times of vulnerability and weakness, along with times of happiness. On the best days, Omar was always there with the biggest smile in the room, and on the worst days, Omar was still there, offering open arms and an open mind, for a hug or a conversation.
I cannot count the number of times I have come away from long or brief conversations with Omar, and reflected on his perspectives with admiration. Experiencing a friendship with Omar since coming to university has been a constant privilege, and those who moulded and raised him to become the person he was, have every right to be the proudest people in the world. Omar thought the absolute world of his family, speaking about them often with pride, portraying to us his appreciation of them also being the most special type of people. For all of his family and friends, I hope that some comfort can be felt in the knowledge that his years since coming to university in Liverpool were lived in the fullest way, making the most joyful memories. Coming to terms with the fact we will no longer see him, or his smile walking through the door, is heart breaking, but the existing memories will resonate with us forever, as I'm sure they will for all of you.
Even though Omar’s abilities and understanding were so much more extensive than mine, we shared a lot of passions and values. I know a lot of the time he would have to dumb down his boundless knowledge to accommodate me, but his appreciation of the intricacies of films, music, food and much more, will continue to change the way I appreciate many aspects of life. Both being Liverpool fans, he was next to me for every game, every celebration. I particularly remember him bringing me to Anfield, standing in the Kop, and us hugging ecstatically every time a goal went in. I hope there aren't any Man United fans in the room, because we both particularly enjoyed that 7-0 as well. To be honest, it doesn’t feel the same anymore without him being here to celebrate too, but from now I will be celebrating for the both of us. Despite him no longer being with us physically, I feel secure and comforted in knowing that we will truly never walk alone from now onwards, as his presence and memory will live inside our hearts and minds forever.
My name is Luca,
and I was lucky enough to have lived with Omar in my second year of university. This meant seeing each other every day for the best part of a year. Over this time I got to know Omar very well and as a house we only became closer and closer. Omar was someone that was impossible to dislike. His endless kindness and support meant he was someone you could reliably trust and confide in. Omar had an extensive passion for music, and was impressively gifted with instruments. He was able to pick up Faiq's left handed guitar and play it upside down, along with a song he had never practised before. Other than playing music, he loved to listen to it as well. My room was just next door to Omar’s and I'd often find myself trying to shazam Omar's music through my bedroom wall. Omar loved all different types of music and his shower playlists could range from Kendrick, to Marvin Gaye or Mozart.
As someone that enjoys cooking myself, I have always been able to appreciate Omar's abilities in the kitchen. He was a very efficient and creative cook, meticulously producing meals that left the rest of the house in awe of his culinary skills, wishing we were eating what he had made. So whenever we did eat what Omar made we were never disappointed. Last month we did a house Come Dine With Me competition, so of course, Omar had to make a wine-braised beef which he wouldn’t let us eat until the meal was carefully garnished with finely chopped chives. And to no surprise, Omar was the unanimous winner. As well as being a fantastic chef, Omar was the most sociable person I knew. He was able to walk up to someone he had just met and speak to them as though he had known them for years. I’m sure many of his university friends in this room have experienced bringing friends up from home, introducing them to Omar and then later finding out they’d stayed in contact and Omar would know more about what they were up to than you did. I think this is one of the reasons why Omar touched so many people’s hearts, whether it was someone he had grown up with or someone he had just met for the first time.
Growing up in Liverpool, he spent a large part of his formative years there, where he would go on to meet some of his closest friends. Although Omar received many offers from prestigious universities, I think he always knew he would end up back in Liverpool. This seems only right as this city had become a part of who he was. Liverpool was Omar’s second home, and he shared the significance of it with us through his childhood memories. I feel blessed to have met such a genuine and thoughtful friend and I can confidently say the impact he had on all of our lives at university will be cherished and never forgotten.
Omar, it has been a pleasure, we love you and always will.
