Its a nice day in Houston. My favorite kind of day; cloudy and warm. Being outside on a day like this feels like a reassuring hug. A reminder that life is good and if I listen closely I can almost hear the sky say it will rain just for me if I stay out long enough to admire it. It’s Monday and last week was really good to me. I guess that’s why I procrastinated writing this one. It is a tough one but an important one.
I have lead a very fortunate life. The meaning of the word ‘loss’ was lost on me. I first learnt what the word truly meant last year in March when I lost my dada (grandpa) and this new kind of sadness washed over me. Then I realized just how haunting this word can be this year, on March 18th, when I lost my classmate and it became clear that the only moment I have for sure is now, that life makes no promises.
In the short 13 years I lived with my dada he taught me a few things that has shaped the way I live my life today. However, I will keep this short and tell you about the most fundamental one. This is hard for me to admit now, but one of the most important people in my life today, my brother Mufaddal, used to be the bane of my existence as a child. He has always loved me dearly, but I had the tendency to shut him down whenever he came to me for anything; whether it was to talk or just chill.
Then one day my dada sat me down and he says, “you have a brother who loves you so much, do you realize what a gift that is?” And then he proceeded to say something I will never forget, “your brother is your true life partner. Yes, you will grow up, marry and grow old with your husband, but it is your brother who has been by your side since you were just a baby, it is him you have grown up with, and it is him you will grow older alongside with. It is your brother who will still be your family when your parents leave this world. He is the friend you were gifted since you were a year old, and he will walk through this life with you side by side till you two are in your old age.” Such a profound thought. I was only a kid, yet this resonated with me so much. Today, anyone who knows me knows, my brother is the most cherished person in my life. He is my best friend and he is my life partner. Thank you dada for helping me realize this precious gift in a way that when my second brother was born, I was able to be there for him and love him from the start.
My dada was buried last year — on 11th March, 2017. He was blessed with a peaceful life and a death as elegant as he was. He was discussing his business with his three sons when his heart gave way and just like that, he was gone. Though it has been a good couple years since I last saw him, I can still imagine him sitting cross-legged on the brown-orangish couch in our home in Surat reading the newspaper. That, or he was at his shop working. He was well into his 80’s but he worked till the end of his life. Not that he needed to, he was simply a hard working man who did not know how to remain idle. When he went, he had the pleasure of being in the company of all those he spent his life building an empire for: his wife, three sons, and two of his grandchildren. It is one of my life’s greatest regrets I never saw him; maybe my only greatest regret really (I told you I have lead a fortunate life).
Then this year it happened again. The small Enviro/Geo Engineering Class of 2018 lost a classmate, a friend. Paolo San Gabriel. I won’t pretend we were close friends just because he’s gone, but he sure was special.
My first memory of him dates back to first year when I found myself in one of the labs for a class I don’t even remember anymore. We were instructed to make groups of two. Everyone was already paired off when I looked across the room to find this Asian boy who was also standing alone. I looked at him with uncertainty, and he gave me this shy, crooked, contagious smile. It was an unspoken acknowledgement that we were partners. All from that one smile.
Over the years, I had the pleasure of partnering with him on a couple other projects. He was incredibly intelligent, and a terrific dancer too. And of course much much much more than that.
The night before he fell ill was our grad ball. It was also the last time I saw him. Me and my two friends were waiting in line at the photo booth and there he was, the same way I had seen him for the first time five years before. Alone, with the shy crooked smile that made you smile too. How poetic. He comes over and says, “Can I get in this picture with you guys? I got here late and my crew already took their photo”. This photo now is my favorite from that night.
Exactly a week later he was gone. When I first heard of his death I laughed, “well obviously this is a joke, there is no way” clearly in denial. Until it was confirmed, and I had to accept it. The news broke me like a magnitude 8 earthquake would break the ground at its epicenter.
As a young adult, you tend to believe you are invincible. That death was a possibility only for the old aged. Paolo’s death was an example of how fragile life can really be. It felt like the ground was swept from beneath my feet. It was a reality check that there are no guarantees, that today could actually be my last day. And well if there are no guarantees why the heck should I even bother making a life out of this simple existence? I was brought to my knees, life can be humbling like that. My dada’s death was saddening, whereas this angered me. What a terrible, unnecessary loss. Such a brilliant talent — gone to an incredible waste.
Like I said, Paolo and I were friends but not close friends. I didn’t know his hopes and dreams, but I knew his death hit me close to the heart. Hard. I still think about him almost every day. Why didn’t he walk the stage with me at graduation? Why isn’t he here starting his first full time job like the rest of us? Why did he go so soon?
But I guess, me sitting here writing about him means he didn’t go. Not entirely. Because I still think about him, he lives on within me.
Just like my dada lives on within me. In the bond I share with my brothers. In the way my dad raised me because of how my dada raised him.
And I guess this is why we bother making our existence on Earth into a life. So that when we leave it, we are actually not leaving it. We live on in every person we touch. In every person who remembers us.
We live on in the people we have supported and in all the partners we have had; whether its our soul mate, a sibling, a parent, a friend or a classmate.
We live on in the relationships we have built, we live on in the shy, crooked smiles we have given to others.
Maybe that is the point. You may have passed but you are still going to be here, in spirit.
A week before Paolo passed away; the last photo him and I ever took the day before my dada left us, which makes this the last photo he ever took; him with his sons
Originally published at http://citylightsandslowsongs.wordpress.com on July 24, 2018.
