a fond adieu...

I don't normally write posts for others. I don't even dedicate posts to others. Why? Because it is my blog. However, today's post is dedicated to a very special lady. She has been with me throughout the majority of my existence. She is the one woman who made me cry before I saw her. The one woman who has, thus far, spanked me. And the only person, I know, who used chili as a motivator. And this is the story of how I met her...

I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was 4 years old and free as a bird can be. My mom entered the room. Beaming at me as if she had gotten me a gift. Just like any other kid, my gift-senses started tingling and I ran to my mom to hear the good news, or more importantly, to get the booty she got for me. However, she had other plans. No booty was to be had by me. On the contrary, the seemingly 'good' news she had for me was that (as it's in our culture when we start going to kindergarten) she got me into a class, rather a house, that taught Quran. My reaction? I started crying. Crying as if the world has ended. I felt the horizon close in on me. I can proudly say I didn't throw much tantrums as a kid, but on that day, a tantrum I threw. And it was one hell of a kind! I threw things at my mom. I sat on the floor and stomped my feet. I cried big fat tears. Not the crocodile tears, but frickin huge Oh-God-what-did-I-ever-do-to-deserve-this tears! My mom, as calm as a praying mantis on acid, just laid down on the floor beside me and stayed silent through the ordeal.

Of course, I lost the war and ended up going to the house. And God, did she scare me! It felt like a jail to me. I take it back. A jail would be better. She kept a stick on one side and one mean looking chili on the other side. I am not talking about a plain chili. No. It was the Mother of all chilies. It was the unholy offspring of Satan, himself. It was huge, red, and mean! Anyway, she never used it on anyone, but it was scary as hell. But the stick, she did use. And use it on me she did. I didn't study the lesson for that day and she spanked me. I think I got about 10 hits. It did not hurt but the humiliation was unrelenting. It did, however, teach me to study my lesson. And she held the record as the only female to have hit me for more than 18 years until my classmate from college punched me for calling her a lesbian.

Soon, I got used to the whole thing and I grew up to be her favorite student. I made great friends and going to the class soon became my favorite part of the day! Even long after I 'graduated' from the class, I visit from time to time to see her and she would get all mushy touchy dovey with me. I will never forget the way her face lit up every time I went to visit her. She would always greet with my a motherly smile and pat my back as if I were her own. She would hold my hand and never let go as she barraged me with questions. About studies, about job, and about life. I remember our last meeting. It was the ninth of November 2012, some 20 odd years after our first encounter. She had been so sick lately that she could barely recognize me. Once I told her I was her favorite student, she smiled at me. She showed me in and we went and I sat down beside her. Once again, I faced the inquirous blitzkrieg (by now I have learned to answer those questions short and sweet). She asked about my job and told me what little stories she remembered from when I was a student. The best part was that whenever one of her children, grandchildren, or even someone else came, she would introduce me and say that I was her student. She showed me off as a trophy. When it was turn to bid her goodbye, she held my hand, looked me in the eyes and her eyes full of tears and yet smiling, she says, 'Do come again.' And it struck me; she never said a proper goodbye. There were no farewells with her, no goodbyes. Just a promise, a plea to see her again.

And then the phone call last night. She had passed away. Truly, we belong to Allah and unto Him we return!

I write this post, not to mourn her passing away, but to celebrate her life. So here is to a lady, who has dedicated her life to educate others. A lady who gave back to the world more than the world cared to give her. I hope that, one day, I can become even half the person you are. To bastardize George Bernard Shaw's quote, life was no 'brief candle' to you, and you burned the splendid torch that is your life, as bright as you could, before you handed it on to future generations.  Here is to a great mentor and a great educator. AND A FUCKING AWESOME HUMAN BEING!!!  I will never forget what you taught me and I will always treasure your words and your wisdom. It was a pleasure being your student and an even more pleasure knowing you as a person, away from your stick and chili. I am a better person for having known you. The world will miss you. I will miss you. Your memories and your words will live forever in my heart and I shall remember you in this world and the next.

The following words are from the West Point Alma Mater and it is the least I could do to honor you...

And when our work is done,
Our course on Earth is run,
May it be said, 'Well Done;
Be Thou At Peace.'

Until we meet again. Adios...