Gratitude In The Shadow Of A Momentous Loss

Cancer took my wife, Uzma this year. Many dreams died with her. Her solo aspirations and our shared ones. All went, poof! Come to think of it, these dreams died in 2017. By then, it was clear she was not going to be one of the lucky ones who get to live many years with stage 4 breast cancer. But this year, those dreams were finally laid to rest.

When some dreams die, years later, one looks back and says, “I am grateful that didn’t work out. Because of that not working out this more amazing thing, that was better for me, in the long run, worked out.” I don’t believe such a retrospective reappraisal of a loss of a loved one and shared dreams is possible. Even if it were possible, I don’t think anyone would fault me for not experiencing this form of gratitude quite yet.

I am not mad at the fates for taking Uzma away. Uzma never once asked, at least aloud, that I can recall, “Why me?” She once said, “About 150,000 people die every day around the world; what not me?” Of those 150,000, about one third die young. Just because I am not mad at destiny doesn’t mean I have to be grateful for it.

Yet, Thanksgiving is here. It is an annual reminder to exercise gratitude, one of the key acts that can help one live a better life.  So, this Thanksgiving, what do I feel grateful for?

First of all, destiny, luck, fate, I take it back. I am indeed grateful to you for having brought us — Uzma and me — together. Without you, there is no way that a person belonging to the Kashmiri Pandit community, a community ethnically cleansed out of their homeland by Pakistan-sponsored and trained terrorists, would ever have met an actual person from Pakistan. Without you, we would not have been in love. Our marriage wouldn’t be a thing. Our kids, us in the house we are in, none of this would exist. Yes, like the gods in some greek myth, you extracted a heavy price for giving us all that. But it allowed for Uzma to become part of me. For that, I am grateful.

Second, I am grateful to Uzma. I know you can no longer hear me. You loved me back. You loved me even for my quirks, not despite them. All the times we spent in each other’s arms, in moments of joy and sorrow, and moments of just being, those are all memories I am thankful for. I am grateful for the two amazing kids we have together. I am grateful for your voice in my head that will forever be there telling me things.

You used to help me appear as having a better sense of style and fashion than comes naturally to me. And how to improve a particular presentation. To take care of myself emotionally and physically. And about the importance of social niceties  — they are not there to make life difficult; they are there to help strangers become friends. Your love and voice will always be with me. For that, I am grateful.

Third, I am grateful for my amazing parents and extended family. In the 1990s, when Uzma and I met, we were still reeling from the ethnic cleansing of our community from our homeland in that same decade. Naturally, all of you had reservations about Uzma and me. Yet, not one of you rejected me. And you welcomed Uzma into the family with love. Uzma used to say, “Your family is too filmy!”

This was a reference to those idolized families depicted in many feel-good Bollywood movies. Of course, over the years, she would learn that we have our own dysfunctions and flaws like all ordinary families. However, her initial impression speaks to how welcome she felt. You were by our side when she joined us, and you with us when she left. And both times and many times in between with so much love. For that, I am grateful.

Fourth, I am grateful for those in Uzma’s extended family who accepted us together without judgment. This was as hard, if not harder, for them as it was for my family. Their religion explicitly forbade a union like ours, where each half of the couple kept their own faith. And of course, they are as affected by the geopolitics of South Asia as my family is. Yet, there were those among you who accept us and love us without judgment. When her closest family members shunned her, you are the ones who sustained her more than you can imagine. For that, I am grateful.

Fifth, I am grateful for all those friends Uzma brought into our life together. Uzma had a knack for turning strangers into friends. Recently I saw a book for sale called “Superattractor.” I don’t know what that book is about, but that title reminded me of Uzma. She was a superattactor. Students from college, coworkers, neighbors, people she met in classes she took to develop her hobbies, folks she connected with on facebook and in all other walks of life, became her friends. She was also a “superkeeper”. She kept friends for life. Many of those friends are in our lives even after Uzma is gone. If friends are family you choose, thank you for choosing us. It can’t be easy without the superattractor around. For that, I am grateful.

Sixth, I am grateful for my employer and my colleagues at work. My work-family is incredibly supportive. I never had to think twice about taking time off to be with Uzma for her planned appointments or unplanned procedures. Work is where we spend at least one-third of our life. My colleagues, work-friends and my bosses who were just there for me. There’s just no other way to describe it. For that, I am grateful.

Seventh, I am grateful for all the readers of Uzma’s blog and book who write to tell me how her book helps them cope with their own cancer journey or loss journey. It shows me why she really wanted to get the book out there. That you all take time to let me know of its impact is amazing. For that, I am grateful.

Finally, I am grateful for the United States of America. Despite all its flaws, America remains one of the best places to live in the world. It has some of the most big-hearted and open-minded people. Yes, I don’t like the current dispensation and what it stands for. But it is our political representative. But it does not represent everything that the majority of Americans are. I am thankful to those Americans. You gave me a chance to live and build a life here. Without you, Uzma and I would never have met. Without you, we would not have this best among all family celebrations — Thanksgiving, the only holiday that celebrates gratitude without any obligated religious rituals.

And while we should all be practicing gratitude year-round, Thanksgiving is this — an annual reminder to focus the mind on this essential activity.

For all of it, I am grateful.

(Featured image by j_lloa at Pixabay)

Radiation continues…

When you go to the hospital every day at the same time, you start noticing a lot. You know where the parking spots are typically open, who the valet guy is , who is the one over seeing hospital housekeeping, the schedule of the coffee runs.The crowd outside the OR with big books or e-readers prepared to wait for someone seem the same although its a different group every day. The rhythm of waiting rooms, the sounds of the hallways and the footsteps of the staff.

The radiation oncology waiting room is a collection of chairs next to a long hallway. The crowd remains the same every day albeit some minor variation…….the very anxious hispanic lady with her baseball cap ,always accompanied by a family member, the older guy with lung cancer and his occasionally present wife, the ukranian lady who wears a cape, the elderly guy in the wheel chair who flirts with the receptionists when he is not dozing off and the goth lady who talks mostly to the patients that wait for their MRI in the same area. We see each other every day and although there is no overt acknowledgment, we all know that we have the same enemy.

Today, there was a new guy, the patients weren’t moving in predictable fashion and it seemed that they were running behind. The new guy was approached by the technician who reported that he is getting late for his chemotherapy, the technician asked, “how long does that take you”, the new guy replied” Its my first one”there was a wave of palpable empathy in all sitting there, in that moment we all felt one, connected with this bond of experience that was common to all of us. Even the aloof ukranian lady sighed.

Daily appointments are draining , they are a daily reminder that you are sick and need help. Its taxing to the psyche, having to go in every day. Feeling good during treatment is deceptive because you feel well yet you are a patient. Dealing with cancer means rearranging a lot in your life including how you think about life. Feeling well is a blessing that needs to be appreciated daily, the day you don’t hurt, the day you arent exceptionally tired and feel clear in your head is a good day and should be appreciated as such. Gratitude needs to be the routine with every passing day. There is hope and sometimes it comes out of a machine in form of rays on a daily basis.