Ziad Rahbani’s final farewell draws a nation in tribute

Report by Yara Dargham, English adaptation by Mariella Succar

At the moment of Ziad Rahbani’s passing, Lebanon’s many contradictions came together in a rare show of unity—bound by love for the man who had long defied definition.

Ziad left the way he lived—on his own terms. His farewell was both official and deeply personal, as crowds of people who loved him gathered to say goodbye, their voices loud with emotion. He left behind a trail of memories that are almost impossible to recall without a tear—or a smile.

Though it marked his final farewell, the atmosphere was also one of warmth and remembrance. Those closest to Ziad—friends who lived through years of creativity by his side—shared moments that spoke to the depth and breadth of his talent.

Among the most striking aspects of his life was his spiritual dimension. Though not religious or keen to identify himself as a believer, Ziad wrote hymns and prayers that have endured in collective memory. His music felt like a conversation with God—sometimes doubtful, but always filled with hope.

Ziad’s funeral turned into a cultural and artistic procession, just as he deserved. Artists gathered around his casket, offering their hearts, their words, and their voices. Among them were Khaled El Haber, Marcel Khalife, and Talal Haidar, who stood by Ziad’s coffin and vowed they would meet again.

And the farewell wouldn’t be complete without the voice of Fairuz singing: “Only they remain, like the elderflower bloom...”

“You alone, Ziad, will remain,” one mourner said. “Not just because you were a genius—but because you were like us, and ahead of us at the same time. A joke in the face of pain, and truth in the face of lies.”