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Naser Maghteh at his son, Yazan's, grave. Image Credit: Courtesy Naser Maghteh

Dubai: On most nights, a father finds his wife in the room of their late son, Yazan, holding his clothes to her chest and weeping — for her he exists in every one of his things.

Yazan Nasser, 17, and three of his closest friends were killed on September 9 when a speeding motorist crashed into their parked cars on Academic City Road. Eight friends had parked two cars on the hard shoulder and were talking.

An Emirati driver, 18, police said, was speeding. He lost control, swerved to the right and crashed into one of the cars, which hit the eight friends standing on the side of the road and the third car.

Lebanese Mohammad Al Ameen, 19, who went to the American University of Sharjah, as well as three best friends who graduated from Al Dawha School in Sharjah — American Yazan Nasser, Palestinian Izzeddin Al Battrwai, 16, Jordanian Abdullah Salah, 18 — were killed.

Dealing with grief

Nasser Mohammad Maghtheh, who lost his youngest son, Yazan, is oscillating between the so-called five stages of grief: denial, anger and isolation, bargaining, depression and, finally, acceptance.

And, now, he faces the possibility of seeing his other son, Mohammad, who suffered severe injuries in the crash, going to prison.

“I visited the crash site,” Maghtheh said, “there were still dark stains on the asphalt. I felt the ground drop beneath my feet when I thought it could be Yazan’s blood.”

Maghtheh said the boy’s mother walks around the house looking for Yazan.

“The house itself is a harsh reminder of what had happened,” Maghtheh said. “He wanted to be a bodybuilder, had admirable discipline and a good heart. Now, he’s in a grave. It’s unbelievable.”

Yazan’s older brother Mohammad, 18, is languishing in Rashid Hospital. He has undergone two operations and has had a steel rod implanted to fix the fractures in his right leg. Surgeons stitched a lung to stop internal bleeding and Mohammad faces difficulty in excreting waste.

“I was surprised when the hospital wanted to discharge him earlier this week. Police officers came, wanting to take him into custody. They believe he may share accountability for the accident. One of their friends, the driver of the other parked car, is already in police custody.”

Therapy

However, the boy’s father believes that Mohammad needs to go through long periods of physical and psychological therapy to grasp the outcome of the car crash.

“He is in no condition to face courts and prosecutors. Honestly, neither are we; from hospitals to doctors and medical reports. It’s astonishing to think that now we have to deal with lawyers and the traffic prosecution. I’m exhausted, debilitated and really can’t go through all this. I feel my strength failing me.”

Senior Chief Traffic Prosecutor Salah Bu Farousha, Head of Dubai Traffic Public Prosecution, said officials are probing all factors that led to the accident but declined to elaborate on details of the investigation.

Maghteth said Mohammad refuses to grasp the fact that his brother was killed.

“He cries out his brother’s name in his sleep, wakes up trying to look for him. They were only a year apart, inseparable. He also lost three of his closest friends. Physically, he’s incapable of going to the toilet alone. I don’t think he’s ready to be discharged. He weighs more than me; I can barely carry him to the toilet. And when I’m at work, how is my wife supposed to do it?”

Maghteth said that he had just finished the paperwork for Yazan to start university.

“I got a call from the university, a reminder for Yazan to attend his last placement exam. I told them Yazan is gone. The female registrar employee didn’t understand what I meant. She asked me if he was going to another university. I told her that Yazan is gone. Dead. She couldn’t believe it herself.”

“They were at the prime of their lives, all of them. They would gather in our house and play PlayStation and goof about. They were all like my sons. We even met the parents of the other boys, became friends with them. And now they’re gone. I keep repeating that line to myself but it still seems fictitious.”