Hi mom. It's me. Beirut Boy.

As I stand next to my sleeping grandpa in the hospital, I feel stupid.

It’s Friday night and I just got out of work where I had been stressing out the whole week.

“Am I good enough?”

“Will I deliver everything on time today?”

“I CAN’T leave before coming up with something creative”

All this stress. All these worries. These insecurities. As if that’s what’s important,  you know?

I look at my grandpa’s stitches on his head. That’s what matters.

He’s not wakin up. That’s what’s real.

His life. That’s what’s on the line.

He’s been sleeping for 7 days straight. Yeah that’s sad. But I’m just as comatose as he is. Blinded by the things I think are important.

I know what’s important.  Family. Health. Relationships are important. Briefs, work, clients, come second.

As I help them carry my grandpa on the stretcher to do yet another scan…seeing him in pain… I tear up. Sad… but ironically, it’s the first sincere raw human emotion I showed all week. It’s the most… important… thing I did all week.