On January 31, Hazem Abdalla left the Cherry Hill home he shared with his father, Eid, to grab a meal with a friend.
When he returned home about 90 minutes later, Hazem saw their home engulfed in flames.
“I didn’t even think of anything; I just ran toward the house,” he said.
Hazem saw smoke at the front door, and started screaming for his father.
He remembers hearing one of his neighbors yelling for him to get out of the house.
Instead, Hazem pulled his hoodie over his head and tried to continue on inside.
“All I saw was the entire kitchen in flames, and as soon as the smoke contacted the air outside, it made everything rapidly worse,” he said.
The fire raged until the early hours of the morning. Eid’s body wasn’t recovered from what was left of the property until almost 5 a.m., Hazem said.
In the time since, the 27-year-old has relied upon the kindness of lifelong neighbors.
His bosses at Cheessteaks in Merchantville established a crowdfunding campaign to help him get back on his feet.
His neighbor, Crystal, whose home was also extensively damaged in the incident, has been helping coordinate relief; another neighbor, Carlos, has given Hazem a place to stay while he sorts his affairs.
“The same connection that my dad built with them, I feel,” he said. “It’s not just neighbors. We’ve been with each other for 20 years now. It’s like a family.”
In the aftermath of the tragedy, however, Hazem wants people to remember Eid by the way his father lived his life, and not how it ended in his 69th year.
As a teenager in his native Egypt, Eid founded a construction company.
In the early 1970s, he came to the North Jersey exurbs of New York City for work.
Hazem was born in Alexandria, Egypt, six years after his brother, Youssef, and spent the first five years of his life there.
Eid moved to the United States in the early 2000s because he wanted his sons to have a chance at “a better education; an easier life.”
They started out in Maple Shade, and then moved to their home on Main Street in Cherry Hill, right on the edge of Merchantville, where they remained for 20 years. Youssef moved out at 18; Hazem remembers his younger days as “a regular childhood, just like any other kid could ask for.
“I had a great upbringing just like any other average kid,” he said.
Eid drove taxis, worked long hours as a chef at the Cherry Hill Diner, and encouraged his son to someday pursue a trade.
“My dad was a super hard worker,” Hazem said; “six days a week, working 12-hour shifts to make ends meet and make sure I was happy.
“By no means were we struggling” he said. “He was making everything happen by the grace of God and himself.”
Eid prized hospitality; whenever a friend came over, the first question was, “Are you hungry?” He’d cook anything his son wanted for dinner, and there was no topic of discussion that was off the table in their relationship.
“I could talk to him about anything,” Hazem said.
“He was super-funny.
“He always knew how to take care of the people around him, and make people feel loved.
“He was such a sweetheart.”
Hazem grew up understanding that his father could have had a comfortable life in his native Egypt.
Eid spoke often about retirement there, but wouldn’t leave America until his sons were established.
“He didn’t have any other reason to be here,” Hazem said.
“He had a house out there; he had everything he needed out there. He just decided to come here to make sure I could have a better education.”
Since the fire, Hazem said his mother, Azza, and extended family in Egypt have supported him emotionally from afar, but he’s still trying to figure out how to lay Eid to rest in accordance with his Muslim faith.
Once he can re-establish himself, Hazem plans to follow his father’s wishes, and explore a career in the trades. He’d like to become an electrician.
Hazem also has asked that those who have memories of his father to cling tightly to them, and to remember Eid’s humor and generosity of spirit in his absence.
“I love my dad more than anything in this world,” he said.
“He was someone that I look at as my best friend.”
