I got some disturbing news this morning. One of our
neighbours has been diagnosed with breast cancer.
My first reaction was why her? Here’s a woman with two
sweet kids, a loving husband, great in-laws and a good career. She’s also
someone who regularly exercises. She’s got everything going for her. But if there’s one thing
I’ve derived from reading about cancer all these years, is that it can happen
to anybody. There are no guarantees that a woman who married on time (ideally
her 20s), had kids before age 30, and exercises regularly, will not get it,
just as someone who hasn’t done all this won’t get it.
The next reaction was, I want to hug her. Because
words cannot express everything.
When tai (my sister) died, I remember I was fed up of
words. As a journalist and writer, having held the greatest value for them
until then, for the first time, I didn’t want them. I wanted people who came
home for condolence to stop talking. To stop mouthing their crappy, shitty
words that truly didn’t mean much then, but which they said
because that’s what we do in a society when we go to meet people we know, who
have lost someone. I wanted them to stop talking because most of them were
saying the same things we kept hearing over and over, from different people. I
just wanted them to stop talking.
All I wanted, was a hug.
And then a neighbour, about 20-years-old then I think,
came over and hugged me and my father. He didn’t say anything. He just gave
each of us a hug. Perhaps because he had lost his father to cancer too, he
understood? “Better?” he asked after hugging me. For a moment, it was.
Over the years since we lost tai, I have gone through the
gamut of emotions. From feeling guilty about living, of breathing, and pushing those
who loved me and those whom I loved away, I have done many things. I know I
will never heal. But I think I am in a much better place since then. I am a
work in progress.
Today’s news stirred
up many emotions and memories. I also remembered the hug. I want to tell my neighbour that this is a battle she will win. That we're all there for her. I don’t know when I will muster the courage to give her a hug. But
I want to. Because sometimes you need more than words.