Oatlands car crash: Mum Leila Abdallah unites Sydney with grace, courage and forgiveness
Surrounded by the loves of her life — her children and husband Danny — mum Leila Geagea Abdallah thought this perfect image would last forever. Yesterday she told us she forgives the driver who allegedly mowed down and killed three of her kids and their cousin and, in so doing, left an indelible mark on all our hearts, writes Louise Roberts.
NSW
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This mother and family. This incalculable loss. This city.
Leila Geagea Abdallah is the utterly gracious young mum who ran Rosary beads through her fingers on Monday as she told Sydney she forgives the driver who allegedly mowed down and killed three of her children at Oatlands in the northwest on Saturday — Antony, 13, Angelina, 12, and eight-year-old Sienna.
Angels in Heaven now acting as God’s soldiers, their mum says, and joined by their cousin Veronique Sakr, 11.
Yet there is no public bitterness from Leila, no words of hate or calls for revenge to Samuel Davidson who has been charged over the deaths of her children.
On Monday Leila told reporters: “I can’t hate him … I think in my heart, I forgive him.
“But I want the court to be fair and right – it’s all about fairness. I’m not going to hate him, because that’s not who we are and that’s not what our religion tells us.”
Instead there is only peacefulness, Leila’s words of forgiveness and bravery unifying Sydney in an unprecedented show of grief and support as we share her agony as one family.
Think not of why she has forgiven a driver — although it is remarkable — but how her selflessness and breathtaking courage has left an indelible mark on all our hearts.
Across the suburbs, we often consider ourselves a random collection of individuals with our own loyalties to culture and tribe — sharing with one another the weather, the calendar and a postcode starting with a “2” but little else as we get on with the day-to-day of family life.
And then we watch in astonishment as softly-spoken Leila, at only 34 years of age, stands under an umbrella on an Oatlands footpath where her children perished and says with conviction: “I can’t hate him, I don’t want to see him, I don’t hate him, I think in my heart, I forgive him.”
Do not forget their faces because in death these young souls have left a most unexpected legacy.
Across the suburbs, we are now united. We are Leila, we are absorbed in her family pain –— parent or not.
Grieving is what has unified us.
Would it be our family on a different day and on a different street?
And why is it her family ripped to shreds when other Sydneysiders can share her pain but go on with business as usual? Fate doesn’t even begin to capture it.
One of the world’s greatest cities and there’s a lot to complain about for us. Apparently.
The school run’s a nightmare, groceries are too expensive and we’ll never get a spot at the beach because it’s too crowded and hot.
But despite her now brutal circumstances, there has been no visceral anger or contempt from Leila which would be entirely understandable. Expected even.
Instead on Monday she knelt to the ground with her hands clasped in prayer before flower shrines to her children, a gut wrenching sight.
These parents, Leila and Danny, gave their kids a taste of independence on Saturday night by letting them walk along Bettington Rd with their cousin.
It’s an act so ordinary, so within their rights and within the expected safety of suburban life that it makes it all the more cruel that it was their last act on Earth.
While the drizzle fell on Monday, Leila didn’t rage at the sky at her God.
Instead she quietly but clearly gave us a harrowing insight into how beautiful these children were.
She took Rosary beads from a supporter before she began to speak. She revealed that Angelina fell asleep a couple times with a Rosary in her palm and that Antony had said the Rosary at morning mass the day he died.
“To be fully honest with you, it feels very unreal, I still don’t feel it’s true, I feel that they are still with me — I’m still waiting for them to come home,” she said.
“I opened my eyes this morning, I was waiting for Antony, Angelina and Sienna … you see all of them around each other, cheering each other up, lifting each other.
“And I just miss them – I was waiting for that.”
How do you reconcile your faith with the million-to-one chance that your kids are in the path of a death machine?
But Leila has prayed her whole life to God, she says.
“I didn’t ask him to take my kids, I asked him to take everything away from me but my kids,” she said.
And this.
“I am heartbroken, but I’m at peace because I know my kids are in a better place. My kids are angels. They are right now with us, I can feel them, I’ve got goosebumps, I can feel them touching me and telling me they are with us.”
Leila, we share your goosebumps.
Last night she invited mourners to join her in the Stations of The Cross and to pray the Rosary.
For all Catholics, these Stations are a signature part of Lent before Easter but it’s a spiritual journey frequently undertaken as part of the grieving process. Religious or not, as a Sydneysiders we are entwined with Leila’s journey.
Bring them back. Please can we bring them back and end this agony for Leila and their father and the rest of their community.
Leila continued her tribute: “I know the guy, he was (allegedly) drunk driving on the streets, right now I can’t hate him. And I don’t want to see him. I don’t hate him. I think in my heart I forgive him. But I want the court to be fair. Right? “
“It’s all about fairness. So I’m not going to hate him, that’s not who we are and that’s not what our religions tell us.”
She sniffles briefly and continues: “I forgive him, but I want it to be fair. And I think, God knows what is fair because this is God’s way.”
In this family’s eyes, God does not stop bad things but gives you comfort when they happen and now these children are in a “better place”.
We, meanwhile, are better as a city and community for sharing the grief of this extraordinary family.
Originally published as Oatlands car crash: Mum Leila Abdallah unites Sydney with grace, courage and forgiveness