FUNERAL
Omar was buried on the 8th of June 2023, two weeks after he died. On a gloriously sunny day, Gunnersbury Cemetery looked beautiful, resplendent with old trees and fresh summer flowers. There were more than a hundred mourners in attendance. Family, friends, young and old. All looking on in seeming disbelief that a young man so vividly alive was about to be buried.
Following a brief muslim prayer, Omar was lowered into a deep grave by his father Rashid, his brother Talib and his uncles Sadat, Matt and Alex. Each mourner passed by the foot of the grave to drop a long stemmed wildflower or stalks of lavender and a handful of earth onto the coffin. Some whispered a private prayer or words of goodbye.
Our heartbreak was immeasurable.
Following the burial, the mourners regathered, with many more joining, to remember Omar and celebrate his beautiful life. A cricket pavilion next door to his secondary school was our chosen place for remembrance. Overlooking vast green playing fields, so much love amassed beneath an expansive clear blue sky.
An hour of deeply moving speeches and tributes followed. Mostly delivered by an army of young people, all devastated by the loss of their friend and brother. Afterwards, we shared food and in our collective grief, found solace and kinship. As Omar's mother, I stood on the balcony of the pavilion looking out onto the green. As the sun began to set, I witnessed something extraordinary. Omar's beauty, love and grace filled the air and I did not want the day to end.
If you'd like to revisit this beautiful day or if you couldn't attend and wish to catch a glimpse of the Omar Effect, please read on…
Selecting music for Omar’s funeral was not easy. His university friend and music soulmate Solomon, painstakingly compiled a six hour playlist featuring some of the artists that Omar admired. We hoped that the music would gently guide mourners through the day and offer a small fragment of Omar’s vast and diverse musical knowledge. Below is a ninety minute selection of that music that will rotate every few weeks
Memories of the day
Rashid's colleague Harlan attended the funeral. He had never known Omar in person, but wrote this beautiful description of the day:
I cannot imagine a better event in such tragic circumstances. For the memorial service itself, the cricket pavilion and the outside deck were jam-packed, and there were people spilling out onto the stairs listening to the loudspeakers. I would guess there were well more than 200 people there. The weather conspired to make the environment as nice as possible.
Despite many tears, it was inspiring and uplifting to hear from family and friends about the love and admiration they had/have for Omar. It really was a celebration of life. I had no idea how close-knit and warm the family is, nor how brilliant, funny, loving, and happy Omar was.
The speakers included an uncle, friends who grew up with Omar, several friends from university, and Omar’s younger brother Talib and fifteen year old sister Afra. All spoke about the things they had learned and appreciate in Omar, and would use as inspiration in their lives. It seemed that Omar was the hero of every single one of them.
Every speaker was wonderful in their own way, but it was particularly amazing to witness Talib and Afra speak with so much depth of thought, eloquence and composure, especially in the circumstances. For me, a particularly striking moment was when Omar’s amazing uncle was speaking and broke down in tears. Suddenly, his young daughter, ran up to hug him, wordlessly, and after he composed himself and began to continue, she sat down, again wordlessly.
I wouldn’t have thought I could have respected Rashid any more than I already did, but that is the case as a result of yesterday. He spoke briefly and read a poem he had written, which is in the memorial booklet. I suspect no one could help wonder how they themselves would possibly cope in the circumstances. Certainly, I could not banish that question from my own mind. Rashid managed to eloquently express his deep pride and love for his son Omar, and conducted himself with a dignity that left me in awe.
If I end my life with an event that has ten percent of the people at Omar’s memorial, saying things that are ten percent as wonderful as were said about Omar, then I would be very satisfied.
Harlan
Here are the beautiful speeches given at the funeral by Omar’s friends and family :
Welcome and introduction, by Alex
Farah, Sadat and Sarah grew up around the corner from where we lived as kids. Our families knew each other, as our dads went to university together in Bangladesh and so we grew up with a connection that always made us feel more like family than just friends.
So when Farah and Rashid (who I know as Icky) moved back down to London from Liverpool, the family expanded as they had their three beautiful children. I was in my early 20s and I loved the fact that it was my first chance to be like an uncle to Omar, Talib and Afra when she came along.
Taking on that role with their real uncle Sadat, who was basically like my older brother, we would have Omar and Talib round to his flat and use our experience and wisdom to teach them about life. By that I mean we would watch football, play PlayStation and introduce them to the gourmet delights of Chicken Cottage - even finally letting them into the secret that if they ever went into the Cottage on Ladbroke Grove and started their order with an “Assalam ualaikum brudda”, they might get an extra free chicken wing or two.
It may have also been something to do with the fact that everybody always thought Icky and I looked like brothers, but I always saw Omar like a younger version of me, albeit as he grew up it quickly became apparent that he was slightly wittier than me, definitely more charming, far better looking and exponentially more intelligent than I ever was. And that was already clear from about the age of twelve.
By the time he was about seventeen or eighteen years old, I stopped pretending that I might be able to inspire him in some way when in fact, the amazing young man I was watching him become was an inspiration to me and just a joy to be around. And that became even more evident when I saw the way he was with our own children when I became a father.
And so I thank Farah and Icky for asking me to do this, as it has given me the opportunity just to say what I am sure every single person who knew him would agree; that Omar was one of those exceptionally rare people who you simply couldn’t help but love.
My brother Omar, by Talib
Good afternoon everyone thank you for being here. For those of you who do not know me, I'm Talib and Omar is my big brother. Looking around the room I'm quite impressed by how many of you have turned up especially as I always assumed I was the more popular brother. I just wanted to stand up today and share some of my memories of Omar with you.
As many of you already know life for Omar and I began in Liverpool. We have only happy memories from those short years before we moved to London. I have fond recollections of us running around Sefton Park, going on Camping trips, playing with Lego, and being surrounded by our best friends Maddie, Bruno, Gracie and too many more to mention.
When Omar and I were nearly 5 and 3, we moved to London. Here, we spent increasing time with our beloved Nanamoni and Nanabhai whose house became a second home to us and is now a home to me. Our childhood in London initially revolved around our shared passions; Lego, test tube aliens and eventually football. To this day, I still remember getting our first Liverpool shirt printed with our Mamu Sadat, crushing our dad's dreams of raising Newcastle fans.
Two years after arriving in London, our baby sister Afra was born. This created our long-lasting battle to be her favorite brother. As our passions for Football and Liverpool FC grew, we spent our summer days at all day football camps, often accompanied by Omar’s friends Bede and Harvey, playing football until we were reluctantly dragged home. As we got older, our love for football extended into more of an obsession when our Mamu Sadat bought us a PS3 with FIFA 12 much to our mother’s frustration as gaming continually distracted us from our homework and revision. However, this never seemed to stop Omar’s outstanding academic performances. I wish I could say the same about myself.
In our early years at our secondary school Burlington Danes, we spent the majority of our time together filming football videos in the park, with me taking shots and Omar attempting to save them. Because of this constant humiliation he was driven to improve his goalkeeping skills. Our football obsession continued throughout our teenage years, never missing a Liverpool match. We would wake up early on Sunday mornings to sneak downstairs to watch match of the day, sometimes dragging our baby sister with us.
As Omar reached sixth form, and developed his pretentious takes on all forms of media, our passion for music was another bonding experience we shared. We had long discussions about Hip Hop music, where we debated Kanye West and Kendrick Lamar, finally supplementing our football obsession that everyone here today is probably sick of hearing about by now.
We naturally went down separate paths in our later teens, Omar went to Liverpool university, and I gave him the only hug I had given him in ten years, when we dropped him off with our mum crying in the background. However, our love for Afra and our baby cousins Yiannis, Eleni and Zain brought us back together, reminding me of some of the happiest days of our childhood.
Whilst Omar was having the time of his life at university socialising and making new friends, I was constantly being reminded by my teacher Mr. Scaife of how the teachers at BDA thought I was living in Omar’s shadow.
Me and Omar spent the last year reigniting our competitive brotherhood, replacing football with the gym. And at least now I know his strength will never catch up to mine. We enjoyed long conversations about our lives at different universities, the gym and as ever Liverpool FC. Whilst I may have beaten him in the gym, our ongoing competition for Afra's favourite brother reached its peak on Afra's 15th birthday. Omar came down to London to surprise our baby sister which led to her bursting into tears in the restaurant, when he appeared. Much to my dismay, I had to concede that he may have won this battle. My final memory of Omar was us helping our wonderful Auntie Khadijah move into her new flat, where we enjoyed a Nando's together and he told me all about his great friends and how much fun he was having at the time and planned to continue having in the future, at university.
What I will remember most about Omar (apart from the years of obligatory big brother bullying) is that he was a clever, thoughtful, and funny person, obsessed with his cat, his football team, and his baby sister. His natural attentiveness and patience with children and animals are a testament to his kind and gentle heart. Since his passing, and despite all the time we spent together in our childhood, I have realised that I had only discovered a fraction of the special gift he possessed and how many people he truly helped. Omar was a wonderful person and brother who will be missed dearly by all, but his memory will always live on in our hearts. I wish I had gotten the chance to tell him how much he means to me, but the next best thing is to tell all of you here today.
Once again thank you all for coming and giving us your support.
Our First Best Friend by Maddie, Bruno and Gracie
Maddie: 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.
Bruno: 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.
Gracie: 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.
The Path, by Khalil 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."
Tribute by Bede
I have two strong memories of my first days of primary school. One is walking into our new classroom, with Harvey, holding hands both sweaty and slightly nervous about what lay ahead. The next is meeting a little lad in our class called Omar. After a quick discussion, Harvey and I asked if he was the same Omar that we had met playing football at the Westway, before our time at Oxford Gardens had started. The response was a “yes”, and as some of you may know… this was actually a lie.
Omar had in fact never met us before, as his days as a talented goalkeeper only began later in life, he instead had decided to gamble in the effort of making new friends. Luckily for all of us, it paid off. That was the beginning of a friendship which carried us throughout our school years, and whilst a little white lie may have been involved, I can’t think of a better foundation to have begun the group we would grow up with together, alongside Harvey, Emmanuel and Romeo. Omar and I soon discovered that we shared a birthday, and in typical fashion, he quickly discovered the exact timings of both of our births and with them his obvious superiority, if only by a few hours. His additional time of worldly experience, which he proudly held over me, clearly translated into brainpower and a pursuit of knowledge.
At an age when most kids are looking to fit in and develop an understanding that our parents can be a bit embarrassing, Omar instead developed a famous alter-ego: Mr Sciency. Priding himself on a messy bush of hair, whilst learning Greek and even the Elvish language from the Lord of the Rings Omar embraced his, shall we say unique, intelligence. Mr Sciency would proudly wear his trousers as high as humanly possible, all in an effort to embarrass his Mum. This began a battle between Lucy, Farah, Omar and I with the Mums threatening to humiliate us at school pick-up time with a choreographed dance routine to maximise our discomfort, I was terrified. Omar instead adopted a far more pragmatic approach, refusing to negotiate with terrorists, and turned to me with a cool confidence, saying “Bede, they’ll only be embarrassing themselves”. Perceptive and intelligent from a young age.
Me and Omar would chat obsessively about everything and nothing at all, but a frequent topic was football. I can remember daily discussions, which were made longer by his painfully slow eating pace, like two retired old pundits talking about sport for ages with Omar’s obsessive love for Liverpool clear from a very early age. Football was definitely a staple of our relationship, right up until the last time we saw each other this year. I can’t give a full reflection of how we spent all of our time together as kids, but it is a testament to his amazing character that in nearly all my memories of childhood Omar is a constant. Whether it was shared birthday parties, playing after school filled with hysterical laughter with our Mums, or even teaching each other swear words, Omar is and always will be there. Clever, competitive, kind and quick with an often sarcastic joke, Omar kept all of these traits throughout his life. As a boy his personality and the wonderful memories which I have of him are a testament to his amazing family for raising such an inspiring, loving boy. This was definitely carried into adulthood, and hearing how much Omar was loving his time at university made me so pleased of the much loved man he was becoming.
He always knew my mum as Auntie Lucy, and now more than ever our families are bonded; we shared so much more than just a birthday, but in our older years this would always bring us back together, alongside family reunions and games nights.
I never imagined a 17th of October without a witty message from the boy who claimed to be Omar from Westway on our first day of reception, but now more than ever, I’ll carry your memory with me mate on the 17th and every other day my amazing friend.
Thank you.
Poem for my Son by Rashid
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 our just beginning.
Love is here.
Love is here.
Tribute 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.
My Friend Omar by Lowri
Omar was an absolute light to all of us. I have never met one person so full of love and appreciation for so many people. Omar never shied away from sharing his affection, sweet talking many of us in this room. For example I once received a loving message that read 'I love you, you're my favourite'. I went to show off to the girls that I was Omar's favourite only to learn that he had sent us all the exact same message at the exact same time. He had all of us wrapped around his finger.
Omar and I met in the first week of uni, as soon as I found out how good at coding he was, it was inevitable that we would become best friends, I needed someone to help me pass after all.
I think it goes without saying that Omar was incredibly talented but his talent wasn't even half of what made him so special. Omar never did anything half heartedly and this extended to his relationship with both friends and family too. The love that he had for those around him was like nothing I've seen before. He gave you his full heart. Even from the outside it was clear to me how much he loved and adored his family, his little sister Afra in particular.
He'd show off her artwork without her knowing or carefully sneak downstairs when we were on FaceTime to show me her playing the piano without her noticing, just so he could share how proud he was of her with somebody else and whilst doing so the smile on his face would be beaming.
Omar showed his love in a million other ways than just saying the words I love you. One time last year Lucy asked him to grab some tomatoes from the shop, in classic Omar style, he returned not only with the tomatoes but also with a rose in hand. He was always able to turn such a mundane task into a gesture of his love and friendship. As well as this, like many of us in this room, if I even briefly mentioned that I liked a song to Omar, within half an hour I'd receive a video of him effortlessly playing the song, whether that be on the piano, guitar or trumpet.
There have been countless times when I'd leave my assignments to the last minute and every time without fail Omar would insist on staying up with me all night, even though he had completed his weeks in advance, just to give me some moral support.
I only knew Omar for two years, but in that short time he had such a big impact on me that I will always carry with me. I'd like to finish off with a message to you Omar.
I am forever grateful for the friendship we shared. I think friendship can teach you what love truly means, and you certainly taught me. I don't think there will ever be enough words to express how grateful I am for you. I love you and I miss you more than you'll ever know.
My Big Brother by Afra
Growing up, Omar was everything an older brother should be. He always knew exactly what to say to provoke me, but also exactly what to say to make me smile on even the worst day. Though I pretended he was just an annoying older brother, I secretly wanted to be everything he was. When he decided he hated bananas, I declared I hated bananas too. His favourite books became mine, and his favourite movies became mine. This was long before he developed his 'pretentious takes on all media'- as Talib described! But although he pretended to only like twelve hour black and white movies, he wouldn't hesitate to sing along to Taylor Swift with me, or recite the words to every scene from Mean Girls.
I know everyone here is probably sick of hearing about Omar's various talents, but for me, his ability to excel at anything, made him into the perfect role model for his competitive sister! Of course, he never saw me as his competition, I was just his little sister struggling desperately to follow in his footsteps. Anything he tried, I had to beat him at. The day his GCSE results came out, I memorised them, and made it my secondary school mission to beat his grades. It still is.
His natural genius was infuriating, and not just academically. He was a talented musician with almost any instrument he could get his hands on, but he was just incredible on the piano. Of course, I had to learn the piano too, just so I could beat him. Even though he had given up piano lessons, and I had been diligently taking them for years, I could still never match his talent. I would spend weeks practicing and perfecting a piece, excited to impress him. But he would take one glance at the sheet music I had pored over, and almost instantly be able to play it perfectly. This, of course, made me sulk on multiple occasions. But deep down, I admired him, and still do.
Although we talked about practically everything, every day, our main communication revolved solely around our beloved cat. Our cat, Katsu, was meant as a present to me after years of begging. But as usual Katsu immediately took to Omar. Whenever Omar came home from Liverpool, Katsu would immediately turn his nose up at the rest of us, and curl up on Omar's lap. Likewise, Omar adored the cat, and would often joke that he only came home to see Katsu.
This wasn't strictly true though, just like he put in the hours with Katsu, he spent a lot of time with me too. He took me out to eat, sat with me in my room to listen to all the gossip, and would be the perfect tutor whenever I needed one. Every time he left to go back to Liverpool for the term, I would cry while saying goodbye, even though I knew I would see him in just a few months. We had a running joke whenever it was time for him to leave: we would both pretend he wasn't leaving. He would be packing this massive suitcase, and would say "hey Afs, I'm just going to Tesco".
Approaching my 15th birthday, he had to go back for an exam, I complained the whole week, saying " this will be my first birthday without you here". Of course, he came back on my birthday to surprise me at dinner, which resulted in me bursting into tears in front of the whole restaurant. I couldn't imagine spending my favourite day of the year without him, and luckily I didn't have to.
I thought that would he my first birthday without him, but it would turn out to be my last birthday with him.
Like everyone here, I'll miss his humour, kindness, and generosity, but I'll also miss all his annoying qualities.. I'll miss the way he would wake up at 1pm every day, just to spend three hours making an eight course breakfast. I'll miss the way he ate all the food in the fridge. Once I caught him having a double cheeseburger as an "afternoon snack". I'll miss the way he would hog the living room every time a football match was on, and would be in a foul mood every time Liverpool lost. You had to learn to avoid him on those days, because he would sulk like a toddler.
I'll miss every little thing about him and more, every day for the rest of my life. I'll miss the weird way his toes cracked when he was walking, so I could always hear when he was outside my room. It was a comforting sound, because it meant my big brother was there, and that he would look after me.
The best gift on my birthday was Omar, and I know he was a gift to everyone else in this room. Today is a testament to how much Omar was loved, and how much he will continue to be loved and missed for the rest of our days.
Eulogy by Sadat
It is with great sorrow and pain, but also pride and honour, that I stand here on this glorious, sunny afternoon in West London, to speak to you all about the life of my late beloved nephew, Omar Sayeed Iqbal.
I want to start by saying thank you, to all of the family and friends (both old and new), who have made journeys, long and short, to be here to mourn, to laugh, to cry, to remember, but most of all to celebrate the life and the story of a most remarkable young man – our Omar.
Omar was born on the 17th October 2001 in Liverpool and spent the first five years of his life ensconced in the friendship and warmth that so defined the life that Farah and Icky built in Liverpool in the preceding decade, firstly as students together at Liverpool University in the late 80s, and thereafter living in the city. And it is in recent years that we all came to understand that for Omar, those early years in Liverpool, together with the enduring bonds of friendships that existed there for his family, plus his obsessive devotion to Liverpool Football Club, all came together to create a magnetism for him that eventually led him back to that great city.
In 2006, Farah and Icky, together with Omar and Talib, moved to this part of London – the area where our family has been since my late father, Muhammad Abu Sayeed, came to England as a 22 year old in 1963. They moved into the house on Oxford Gardens, just steps away from his grandparents on Highlever Road. That house on Highlever Road was our hub – a place where we would all convene and eat and laugh and mercilessly take the piss out of each other. Omar loved that environment, being close to his beloved grandparents, his uncle and aunt, and his cousins, who literally worshipped the ground he walked on. Omar was a child, and later a man, who understood deeply, the social and emotional significance of being together, of supporting each other and the central importance of family.
Much to the joy of myself and my younger sister Sarah, Omar, and then Talib and Afra after him, followed in our footsteps, by attending firstly Oxford Gardens Primary School, and thereafter, Burlington Danes – that esteemed institution just over that hedge!
Omar was happy at Oxford Gardens, making lifelong friends who are present here today. Then at Burlington Danes, followed by sixth form at St Marylebone School, Omar flourished academically. Anyone who knew Omar knows that he was a walking brain on legs. He had a quiet, yet soaring intelligence – – much to my simultaneous annoyance and pride, he managed to do even better in his GCSEs at Burlington Danes than I did (which is saying something…). But Omar’s intelligence, just like his personality, was never arrogant or overbearing – rather, it was cool and understated and he wore his extraordinary abilities lightly, with humour and humility.
As a teenager, Omar’s intellectual and cultural eclecticism seemed to know no bounds. He was the most gifted musician, able to turn his hand to almost any piano piece that was put in front of him, or an impossibly difficult guitar riff he thought might be interesting to master that afternoon. He was also an accomplished violinist and trumpet player. His knowledge and love of music was vast – Kendrick Lamar, Kate Bush, Talking Heads, Sufjan Stevens, Bjork, Scott Walker, Talk Talk, Sun Ra – the list is endless, touching the four corners of the musical universe. He was also a huge film buff, obsessed by the work of Miyazaki and his Studio Ghibli films – Spirited Away, Howls Moving Castle and Princess Mononoke were just three of his favourites.
But Omar was not a stuffy, obscure intellectual – he was not conceited about his enormous capacity for knowledge. He loved nothing more than hanging out with his family and friends, devouring vast amounts of Bengali or Lebanese food, lovingly winding up his parents, his siblings and his doting junior cousins. Indeed, there are many of you here who have seen the special way in which Omar interacted with children – with love and patience and humour. Children were drawn to him, and he always found time for them.
Omar was also a football nut and a Liverpool FC obsessive – you have heard lots about that already. In 2016 I took Omar and Talib to their first ever Liverpool game at Anfield – we lost 3-2 to Swansea, and I remember saying to them both that this was the beginning of a great love affair for them.
It is no understatement whatsoever to say that Omar could have gone to any university that he so wished – he had the brains and grades to do so. Omar breezed through studies and exams and academia like they were minor chores that had to be completed, so that he could turn his time to the things that he was really interested in. And with the academic world at his feet, Omar did what he always did, which was to choose with his heart. And his heart was in Liverpool.
And it was at Liverpool University that Omar, as his dad likes to say, found his tribe. Studying for a degree in Bioscience, academia was almost secondary for Omar – not because he did not want to do well, but because it all came so easily to him. What he was in Liverpool for was his heart and his happiness. It was there that he formed a set of unbreakable bonds with a group of friends who would become his soulmates. In the last week, I have met the most remarkable group of young people who Omar had formed such a close connection with – a collection of kind, funny, interesting and conscientious people, all of whom Omar loved and cared for deeply, and who in turn respected and loved Omar back. The anguish they are suffering has been felt by all of us.
Alongside this burgeoning network of uni friends, was Omar’s old Liverpool family. The group of incredibly close friends who Farah and Icky had formed lifelong bonds with during their two decades in Liverpool, were Omar’s second family – they really did provide a home from home for him. We, Omar’s London family, will forever be filled with gratitude and love for you guys, for the adoration and warmth that you provided for Omar in his two years in Liverpool. We know just how much you are hurting from Omar’s untimely departure from your lives.
In his two years in Liverpool, Omar really, truly lived his very best life. He extracted every ounce of joy and fun and friendship and stimulation that was made available to him. From regularly attending Liverpool games sitting on the world famous Kop, to having a ball with his mates, to experiencing deep and sensitive moments of friendship, Omar was living life the only way he knew how – with gusto and vibrancy and a hundred percent commitment to enjoying himself. I, for one, take great comfort in knowing that Omar was as happy in Liverpool as he had ever been at any point in his life.
In these last two awful weeks, where we have all been engulfed by the pain and agony of Omar’s loss, what has become clearer than ever is that every life that Omar touched; every person that he interacted with; ….. each those people left their encounters with Omar uplifted, elevated, feeling better about themselves. That is what Omar did for others.
Long before I had my own children, l loved Omar like my own son. I remember coming up from London to Liverpool when you were a baby, and playing with you for hours in your house in Plattsville Road, marvelling at your beauty and your humour and your brilliance. You were the perfect child, and I could never have dreamt of a more ideal, wonderful nephew than you. Marina, my wife and your aunt also loved you deeply, from the first time she set eyes on you when you were just a toddler, and that love only grew as every year passed. Our children, Yiannis and Eleni, idolised you – you were nothing short of their superhero – all the books that you read to them, all the lovely cuddles that you gave them, all the football that you played with Yiannis, all the affectionate teasing of Eleni. The memories are never ending. I really don’t know how we, and our children, are going to cope with your absence, without your aura and your radiance, shining on our lives.
Your Khalamoni Sarah, Uncle Matt and your youngest cousin Zain, will equally miss your presence in their lives. Over the last two weeks, I have found tens of photos of you holding Zain close to your cheek, adoring and loving him in the way that only you know how. For Khalamoni Sarah, like me, you were the first nephew that we ever had – you were Sarah’s precious angel – the first child of her older sister. Her heart is broken.
To your Aunty Khadijah, your dad’s sister – you meant the world to her. She would spoil you absolutely rotten in the way that only she could, because it was her way of showing her absolute devotion to you. And in recent times, she came to increasingly rely on you for support and help, as you grew into that brilliant young man that we all knew you would.
And to your grandmother, your nanu – she has been left devastated your departure. Coming to her house after school, eating Bengali food, Sunday morning Bengali lessons with your brother and sister. Your nanu has a special corner of her heart that will be forever yours Omar. Your late nanabhai was also so proud of you – his tall, handsome grandson, who he would hold aloft with pride and in triumph – the culmination of his years of struggle and endeavour.
And finally to Farah and Icky and Afra and Talib. Your loss is unquantifiable – the hole that has been left in your lives is one that can never be filled. There is no beginning and no end to the love that each of you individually, and you collectively as a family, shared with Omar.
To my darling sister Farah, I wish I was able to capture, in words, the intensity and the depth of the love that you had for Omar, and what you meant to him – but it is impossible, and I won’t try. Omar was a beautiful child and had grown and flourished into an amazing young man –– he was the centrepiece of your wonderful family. The unique bond that you had with him, which can only exist between a mother and her first born child, was unbreakable and will remain so for the rest of your years. I know nothing will ever truly heal the pain that you are feeling right now, but I hope you can take some comfort in knowing that your son brought such joy and positivity to the lives of so many, and that the memories of all the times you had together will carry you forward.
Icky, you have lost your beloved son. The apple of your eye. You and Omar were equals – two kindred spirits who shared so much. I know that Omar looked up to you, for spiritual and moral guidance, for friendship and advice. So much of what Omar achieved, and so much of the incredible human being that he became derived from the love and support that you transmitted to him. The intellectual jousting that you and he enjoyed was so crucial in helping him to develop into such a fine young man. Omar will live on forever in your heart.
Afra – our dearest Afra. You meant everything to Omar. He was 6 years old when you were born, and from the moment you emerged into this world, your big brother was absolutely committed to being by your side, to love and cherish you. He had nothing but unbounded admiration for the amazing young woman that you have become. As you continue your journey through life, Omar will be there, alongside you, holding your hand and guiding you through all the joys and achievements, and the trials and tribulations that lay ahead for you. You will never walk alone.
And last but certainly not least Talib. The words ‘Omar and Talib’ have been joined together for the last two decades in the language and the hearts and minds of everyone here today. The two of you were joined at the hip, from the moment you were born. I have literally hundreds of photos of the two of you next to each other, sharing everything together, from when you were both babies, all the way through to your emergence as the greatest pair of young men imaginable. You did everything together and I cannot begin to imagine what it is that you have lost, but I want you remember that you and Omar will always be together, never to be separated. Talib, all of your remaining family need you now more than ever – you are now the leader of the pack. You must carry forward Omar’s greatness and kindness, with you, every day, and let your memories of Omar be present in every part of your being and in everything you do.
To our beloved, kind, wonderful Omar. Never to be forgotten. Rest in peace. Thank you.