On 'The Last Swords'

Author: سعاد الصباح

Every time the eighteenth of September comes around each year, the doors of memory open before me, and I sit at the doorstep of my heart, reflecting on a journey that began the day I was chosen to be the companion of a man who was not like other men, as much as he was like the mountains... in vigor, height, and shadow.

Marriage - in human experiences - can be a contract formalized in courts, or a house shared by two, but in its true essence, it is much broader than that.

Marriage is a message, a responsibility, and a covenant that transcends the bounds of emotion to create a shared human foundation that grows with love like trees grow with water, and flourishes with trust as the homeland flourishes with freedom.

With Abdullah Al-Mubarak, marriage was not merely a shelter for us, but a vast space where we shared a vision and carried our concerns and dreams for Kuwait together.

He taught me that a house is not just walls that enclose, but a window open to the issues of people.

And he always reminded me that a word - when written with sincerity - becomes a sword complementing the knight's sword, and an open book in the school of the homeland.

I wrote during his departure 'The Last Swords,' because I saw in him the last knight who, until his final moments, carried the great values: manhood, nobility, loyalty, and a passion for the homeland. To this day, I still believe that sincere human experiences do not end with death, but rather transform into a radiance that lights the way for others.

My experience with him taught me that marital fidelity is not just loyalty to a person, but fidelity to shared values, a shared memory, and a shared dream.

When the body departs, meaning remains; when the voice extinguishes, the echo remains; and when features fade, the imprint remains... And here I am today, on the anniversary of my marriage to my life's partner, companion on the road, and friend of beautiful times, writing about him not as a personal tale, but as a social value that we should all reflect upon; to see that loyalty is what preserves the meaning of marriage and maintains the homeland's stature in hearts.

I lived more than 32 years with him, moment by moment, day by day... heart flutter by heart flutter, and despite the times in which faces change and relationships shift, I find myself more convinced of the idea that true marriage is not measured by the number of years, but by the depth of the impact it leaves behind.

Abdullah left me in life what made me more confident in the pen, in knowledge, in peace, in giving, and in all the great human values, and more determined that when a woman is the partner of a noble man, she also becomes a partner in making history.

The eighteenth of September, then, is not just a fleeting date in the diary of days, but a symbol of the beginning of a journey where I wove a tale of love and loyalty with my life partner, one that did not remain confined to the house, but rather became part of Kuwait's memory itself. Some marriages die with the end of their weddings, while others remain alive because they are built on solid values similar to the roots of palm trees, unshaken by winds and not withered by seasons of drought.

He took my hand and opened the world to me... from Beirut to Cairo then London and around the world with all life and determination... to return with a certificate that meant a great deal to him.

Perhaps the best gift I can offer on this anniversary is to remind generations that love is a value, that loyalty is a principle, and that marriage - if founded on both - becomes a bridge to eternity.