Our sweet son, our love... Today, it’s been a year. It’s Sunday morning. I try and follow my routine before the others awake – feed the cats, water the plants, refill the bird feeders. I do it quietly, solemnly, my thoughts about you never escaping my mind. I have my earphones on to listen to one of my many podcasts. I listen to things that interest me, but more to occupy my mind to drive out the feelings of sadness, of forlornness, to fill the empty void with the chatter of humans on the other end. In my podcast queue today is Sean Carroll’s “Mindscape.” Sean is a theoretical physicist and a professor at CalTech. His podcasts are usually about discussions on the latest developments in the field of fundamental physics and cosmology. I like listening to Sean and his guests speak about the origins of the universe, the inscrutability of our underlying reality and consciousness, and sometimes the multiverse – a scientific exploration of universes beyond ours. Besides the fact that it scratches my science itch through the pleasure of revisiting my undergraduate and graduate days of studying physics and quantum mechanics, Sean’s chosen topics align with my contemplative mindset that I have adopted since your departure. I’d just as soon delve inwardly into pondering about life – its meaning and purpose. Sunday mornings as I go about feeding the cats, listening to Sean and his guests, with the sense of your absence filling the still sleeping house, are my normal Sundays. Though this Sunday is different. In a departure from his usual format, Sean has on a guest whose area of expertise is as far removed from the esoterica of fundamental physics as you can imagine. Sure, there is discussion about the science of data, of artificial intelligence and predictive analytics – disciplines that capture my interest. And yet, I can’t quite fathom, why on this Sunday, a year since your departure, Sean would choose this particular topic for discussion. If I asked you, you would immediately guess basketball, because the sport dominated your life, and you would be completely right. On this Sunday, Sean’s guest is Daryl Morey, the general manager of the NBA team, the Philadelphia 76ers, formerly the GM of the Houston Rockets. On this Sunday, Sean and Daryl spend the entire hour talking basketball. You’re probably wondering how the topics of predictive data analytics and artificial intelligence crept into their conversation. Little did I know how much the science of data and analytics have come to play a dominant role in the business of basketball at the elite level. During their conversation, I feel my meandering mind wondering how far you might have gone with your passion for basketball. Would you have honed your skills as a player? Would you have gone into the business side like Daryl? In sports broadcasting as a sideline reporter? Or dare I say it, a basketball data scientist? The world was your oyster, and I am left to wonder. My consolation is that on this Sunday, in what I can only regard as a miracle, you revealed yourself, in the form of Sean and Daryl and their talk of basketball. If there is something that I have learned this past year, it is in the opening of my heart to witness miracles being manifest. Each day I gain new insight that reinforce my belief that miracles are not magical scenarios, spun out of whole cloth, where angels and demons materialize and things transmute into other things. That is just fantastical thinking that leads us astray. Miracles are more subtle. Miracles, I’ve discovered, are constrained by the natural laws of the universe, laws that apply to you and me and everything within it. Yet the confounding thing about miracles is while adhering to the universal law, they unfold in a way that supersedes the governing law, like the emergence of a beautiful flower from its constituent parts. I suppose that is why they are miracles, because they are able to span this seeming paradox from the standpoint of our human understanding. Despite its logical impenetrability, miracles are accessible to us all, because it is immersed in this universe and not apart from it. Only, we have to be able to decipher it like the stripes of the tiger hid among the blades of tall grass. My friend once remarked: never forget the power of the word “and” when it comes to miracles. That has stuck with me in my new found insight into miracles. Something that is natural can also be miraculous. It can be both ordinary “and” extraordinary. Is it possible that Sean could have on a guest to speak about his favorite NBA team? Of course it is possible and entirely ordinary. Yet the significance of the day when I listen to it is extraordinary. Is it natural for a red cardinal to land on our deck every weekend when we sit down for breakfast? Of course it is. It comes to feed on the bird seeds that I refill diligently every weekend. What could be more natural than that? Yet it is extraordinary because the significance that we have placed on the appearance of that red cardinal as a sign of your presence among us, and week after week it never fails to produce. Is it ordinary that a shooting star lights up the twilight sky and streaks across your grave while I sit beside you thinking about life that could have been? Yes, it is an entirely ordinary phenomenon. There are literally hundreds, if not more, of glowing meteors that burn up in the upper atmosphere every single night. Yet the unfolding of these natural events occur in a way that imbue it with greater significance and extraordinariness, perhaps even miraculous. These are but a few instances of my daily lived experience. We are after all meaning seeking creatures, so perhaps I’m reading more into it than events would seem to justify. Yet, I believe, it is a sign of my growth to be able to open my mind’s eye and my heart to see and feel the varied ways in which you can still reach out and touch me. So on this Sunday, a year since your departure, as I listen to Sean and Daryl talk basketball, I gain solace from the daily miracles that the universe conspires through seemingly natural events to keep me connected with you. For that I’m thankful and grateful. Be well and stay well, my son. We miss you. We love you.

Our sweet son, our love... Many year ago I remember watching a TV show on the National Geographic channel about the life and death struggle between a pride of lions and a pack of hyenas in the Southern African bushland [1] . The pride was led by two male, brother lions. The dominant one was called Ntwadumela (En-twai-du-mela). In the Swahili language it means “He who greets with fire.” The name stuck with me for its power and its beauty. Ntwadumela was a fearsome, yet handsome creature to behold. As he chased down the hyena matriarch on the dry African plains, with his shock of flowing mane crowning his majestic head, his beauty and raw power couldn’t be denied. We named you Shariq Laith, which means Radiant Lion in Arabic. We gave you the name because we liked it, but little did we know how much you would grow into it. Your power and intensity in the pursuit of your passions mixed so easily with your love and compassion for others. It was gratifying to see you grow and develop into a fully formed young man full of promise. I can only imagine the places you would have gone. Ntwadumela was called upon by his pride to protect their young against the merciless and unrelenting attacks by the hyenas. Upon sensing the impending danger, Ntwadumela strode out of the clearing into the open grassland and broke into a full gallop, his eyes trained upon the matriarch. His tightening sinews and his outstretched muscles readied him for mortal combat. He performed his duty with singular intensity and lethal effect. Ntwadumela was indeed the lion who greets with fire. As I look upon the sky and see it aflame, I know that you are up there, my Radiant Lion, greeting the heavens with fire. Be well and stay well, my son. We miss you. We love you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [1] Ntwadumela – He who greets with fire

Happy heavenly 14th birthday, Laith - my Ludoo (January 20th, 2021)! Fly high and fast, my sweet son – my Radiant Lion, continue playing your music loud, drinking your frizzante, playing basketball and football, catching the ocean waves, laughing out loud, enjoying your seafood, running with a smile, and loving human and animal kind. March 28, 2020, Laith returned to God. Inna Lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un - Indeed to Allah we belong, and indeed to Allah we shall return. I haven’t had the words or strength to write though I feel it’s time. Laith has shared that it’s time, and I owe it to him and myself. Laith tried something, wasn’t prepared and didn’t understand the permanence of his actions. Though I speak to my children about everything with little filter – he nor I were prepared. My 13 yr young, loving, beautiful, intelligent, happy, athletic, funny, free-spirited, fashionable, spontaneous, spiritual, respectful, animal-loving son is now an Angel amongst us. I’m grateful and blessed to have experienced true love with Laith that started each day with an ‘I love you’, and ended each day with an ‘I love you’ (still does) with many hugs and kisses throughout each day. I describe myself as being blessed with two amazing children – one in the physical form, and one in the spiritual form. I speak with Laith multiple times a day as I feel his presence next to me. He sees me crying and sorting how to keep moving. He still gives me love, guidance and strength – just like Zayla. He always did and ensured I was good – often with me telling him to be a child because he was taking on my role. I’m grateful for the experiences with my children because as I reflect – it’s all I’ve got and I smile at the many memories, photos, videos and artworks. I love being with them as it allows me to relive my youth with them – it’s amazing. Laith is one of the greatest loves of my life, and I’m blessed that he chose me to be his Amee. I dream of the day I will see him again to hold his face, smell his hair, hug and kiss him and have him catch me up on what he’s been up to, yet I have a lot to do here and for many years. He’s in the best Hands possible, and I know he’s safe, happy and eating well, and he’ll continue to guide me. I move through my days with my family and village of friends. I ask myself often why Laith was chosen to depart early, what I’m supposed to learn and share, and I’m still figuring it out. One message that was clear and quick - my family and I have started the EverLaith Foundation in honor of Laith to continue his legacy of unconditional love towards humankind and animal kind. Join us. Please say a prayer for Laith. Much love, gratitude, and blessings as we move through this life - XOXO

So, your LA Lakers won the 2020 Championship and LeBron was voted the MVP. Kobe and you are probably high-fiving each other. Excerpted from your basketball diary. You truly were a student of the game. I’m proud of you, son. BASKETBALL SHOT TIPS Keep arc until basketball goes through net Full load (start shot down near hips or belly button) Release shot at nose Hips go up, ball goes up; hips go down, ball goes down Zig-zag body when shooting Heels off ground when shooting DRIBBLING MOVES Under the legs Behind the back Under the legs walk Crossover front Right hand and left hand crossovers Push-pull on each leg COMBOS Under legs and behind back Under legs through same leg as many times Behind the back and behind the back as many times ANKLE BREAKERS Mid-dribble hard jab step: (Ja Morant and James Harden use the move) dribble to point you want to shoot at, raise up, act like you are about to drive, then move hip foot forward, then back and shoot. On left court: step with right since right handed shooter or left don’t matter. Pump jab step back: (Ja Morant) throw pump fake no higher than chin, hips low, read defender, if right then step your right foot diagonal then dribble while stepping back and shoot, nose aligned with knee. Ankle killer: (Jaylen Brown) so have your right leg forward and ball in right hand, put it in between legs then leg switch and act like you’re going to drive, and then crossover to opposite direction that defender is shading and shoot.

In the extraordinary, the ordinary In the ordinary, the extraordinary You gave it me for safekeeping I brought it home in its egg shell cradle I kept it protected in its nursery And tended to it as I watched it grow Each sinew stretching outward Each vein filling with its own particular hue I watched it grow in wondrous joy And then, when You commanded me I brought it out and replanted it So it could grow beyond its protected confines Its sinews growing ever stronger Its hues taking on a shade beyond my imagination And again, I watched Watched it grow in wondrous joy But no sooner had I replanted it It turned its face towards Your Resplendence Towards Your Seduction And resolved to show You In its own terms What a wondrous creation it had become To join with You, in Your Realm In the extraordinary, seek the ordinary In the ordinary, seek the extraordinary

Our sweet son, our love... Unearned suffering is redemptive. Those were the words I heard in the wake of Representative John Lewis’ recent passing, the Civil Rights icon and Member of Congress representing our city of Atlanta. May his soul rest in eternal peace and may his family be comforted by God’s grace. For Rep. Lewis, his understanding of the redemptive nature of unearned suffering came from the universal teachings of Jesus, and also from the life-works of his mentor, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi. In the words of Dr. King: “My personal trials have also taught me the value of unmerited suffering. As my sufferings mounted I soon realized that there were two ways that I could respond to my situation: either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force. I decided to follow the latter course. Recognizing the necessity for suffering I have tried to make of it a virtue. If only to save myself from bitterness, I have attempted to see my personal ordeals as an opportunity to transform myself and heal the people involved in the tragic situation which now obtains. I have lived these last few years with the conviction that unearned suffering is redemptive.” [1] The unearned sufferings of Rep. Lewis, Dr. King and the Mahatma, were borne of their struggles to reimagine a society in the image of God – of fairness, of goodness, and of kindness and love. Our suffering comes from the sense of deep and enduring loss we feel in your absence. Yet the suffering is the same – unearned and the potential to be redemptive. It is the common denominator, the human condition to which we are all subject. You and I were at your classmate’s birthday party. Her parents put on an elaborate celebration with choreographed events. As the party was winding down we heard an air raid siren go off, and a voice over the public address system came on asking us to take cover. We went into a hallway where I crouched on all fours. I had you crouch underneath me. We heard the screaming roar of the scrambling jets fly above us, followed by the sounds of distant bombings like thunder before a downpour. I imagined the terror you felt was the same as when I was a boy watching the jets fly above during Bangladesh’s war of liberation. Your grandparents’ instinct was to protect me, just as I was doing for you, crouched in that hallway. When the thundering died down, I stood up and realized you were no longer there. Had I imagined it or were you really there? You had torn a corner off a page from a notebook. In it you had written a message in three or four bullets. I read them and understood the profoundness of your message. But when I awoke, as with most dreams, your message disintegrated into dream-dust, except for one, the most mundane of them all. It read: “Remember my eggs.” You loved breakfast. It was your favorite meal. You had learned to make scrambled eggs and you were proud of your egg cooking skills. Some days you would ask me to make you “breakfast food” for dinner, and I would oblige to your great satisfaction. Late breakfast on lazy Sundays is what we did together as a family. Weekend breakfasts will never be the same again. Unearned suffering comes in the daily course of existence. In his memoir, Rep. Lewis wrote: “…we must honor our suffering, that there is something in the very essence of anguish that is liberating, cleansing, redemptive. I always understood the idea of the ultimate redeemer, Christ on the cross. But now I was beginning to see that this is something that is carried out in every one of us, that the purity of unearned suffering is a holy and affective thing. It affects not only ourselves, but it touches and changes those around us as well. It opens us and those around us to a force beyond ourselves, a force that is right and moral, the force of righteous truth that is at the basis of human conscience. Suffering puts us and those around us in touch with our consciences. It opens and touches our hearts.” [2] As I attempt to walk along the cleansing path of redemptive suffering, perhaps there is a profundity to your seemingly simple message to remember your eggs. Be well and stay well, my son. We miss you. We love you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [1] Suffering and Faith, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. [2] Walking with the Wind: A Memoir of the Movement, Rep. John Lewis

Our sweet son, our love... Going through your sketchbook, among your drawings, we came across a passage that you had written down: 1. Maintain a purpose and at the same time experience everything life has to offer. 2. The purification of themselves becoming better versions of yourself. 3. Never ever give up. Don’t let failures put you off chasing your dreams. 4. You will regret not following your dreams. 5. When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it. I recognized this. These are the central tenets from the novel, The Alchemist (O Alquimista) by the Brazilian author, Paul Coelho. It was your assigned summer reading last year. I had read the book several years ago and I was glad that you were reading it. I remember discussing it with you for your book report. The Alchemist is a story about an Andalusian shepherd boy named Santiago. It describes his journey from Andalusia, Spain across North Africa in his quest to fulfill his “Personal Legend,” by seeking treasure at the foot of the Egyptian Pyramids as foretold to him in a dream. Through several adventures and hardships along the way, the central tenets of the book are revealed to him. For others who might be reading this, I won’t give away the ending since you already know how it ends. It is often said that there is no handbook, no guide on how to be a parent. It’s as though you stumble forward, lurching from one instant to another in a constant state of experimentation within a recursive feedback loop. As our firstborn this was certainly true for you. Your boundless energy, your ever present curiosity, and your desire to experience everything kept us busy as parents. It gave us the vitality to attend to your needs as a growing person. All the while we sought clues on whether our experiment was working. Were you growing tall enough? Were your teeth coming in straight? Were you keeping pace with your class? Were you developing proper hand-eye coordination? Were you able to stand up to bullies? These and a million other questions plagued us. The situation I described is not unlike the plate spinner at a circus whose seemingly impossible task it is to simultaneously keep aloft a dozen plates spinning at the end of an upright stick. Except in the case of a parent there are a million plates to consider. In the miasma of so many concerns it’s often difficult, near impossible to poke your head above the fog of uncertainty to see if your child is developing into a whole person. The evidence is only available in its aftermath. And yet, those five lines that you wrote down in your sketchbook gives me comfort. It gives me comfort because it tells me that our experiment was working. From the little child you were evolving into a young man with agency to chase after his own dreams, to embark on the journey of life to shape his personal legend. Yours is a journey of a different sort. It’s not one that I had imagined for you as a parent. Yet I pray that you stay the course and remain true to those words in your sketchbook. I pray that the universe keeps conspiring in helping you to achieve your goals. Amee [1], Z [2], and I, backed up by your family and friends – our collective village – are on the journey with you. Never lose faith. Never lose heart. Be well and stay well, my son. We miss you. We love you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [1] Mom, in the Urdu language [2] Laith’s younger sister

Our sweet son, our love... Around Easter, your cousins and friends, along with their parents, gathered around your Tree to remember you. Amee [1] and I were so grateful at the outpouring of their love that I wrote them a note of thanks. I’m sharing it with you, even though you already know what I wrote. Dear _________, Happy Easter. I wanted to write to you on Easter but I seem to be constantly running behind these days. Hope you can understand that given the circumstances. Thank you for coming to Laith’s Tree. Thank you for allowing us to speak our hearts and thank you for sharing your memories about Laith. Hearing you speak about him confirmed what we already knew – Laith was a gentle and loving spirit, with a heart that was giving of his love, his friendship and his caring. We are extremely proud to be his parents and happy to know that the values that we tried to instill in him were reflected in his aura and in his interactions with you. So how are you? Hope you’re doing a little bit better. Ms. F, Z and I, along with Mokey & Phoenix, our two cats, are hanging together as a family. Hope your family is helping you cope with your sadness. As you deal with the loss of your cousin/friend, keep in mind what I said at the Tree. While the hole in your heart for Laith may never get smaller, if you expand your heart and fill it with love, for yourself and others, the hole will appear smaller in comparison. I’m not an expert on matters of loss and grief, but that’s what I’m planning on doing. Easter is about death and resurrection. Jesus died for us so that we may resurrect Him in our lives through our love – for Him, for ourselves and for others. Consider Laith’s passing similarly — he has given us an opportunity to expand our love. All my love, Syed Son, you truly exemplified love and compassion in our family. Those qualities in you are now thrown in sharp relief by your absence. While Easter is not part of our faith tradition in Islam, its message of resurrection and love appeals to me. The message offers me hope – the hope that I can resurrect you in my life, and in others’ who cared for you, through the expansion of our collective love and compassion. I intend to keep striving towards that goal. Be well and stay well, my son. We miss you. We love you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [1] Mom, in the Urdu language

The Tree of Life is a marker It marks the end and the beginning The Tree of Life is a refuge It harbors those who need shelter It draws strength from the ground upon which it stands, firm and unmoved, like a rock in a swirling sea It soaks up warmth from the sultry air around it and returns life-giving bounty The Tree of Life is the life we seek Your friends come to see you off on your journey One by one, they come to pay their respects They gather in a circle around you, under your branches, wiping off tears, sharing a laugh, or two You are now the unmoved force in their fragile young lives You are their marker You are their refuge Draw strength from the ground, soak up warmth from the air, and offer them life-affirming bounties The Tree of Life is the life they seek