CW: Death
I was born in Kolkata, India, and came to the U.S. on June 29, 2000, when I was nine months old. From the day I arrived, it was clear that I was cherished deeply. Numerous family members were eagerly awaiting my arrival at Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts.
Both of my moms have always been there for me. They were the ones who took me to St. Louis Children’s Hospital for my Selective Dorsal Rhizotomy in 2004, outpatient PT appointments, doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, and numerous appointments at Children’s Hospital Boston.
In between medical appointments, my moms packed me lunches, helped me with my homework, cooked dinners, drove me to school, read me books, and always made sure I knew I was loved. I never doubted that both of them loved me.
In 2004, my younger sister was born. Being an older sister has taught me that watching someone grow up is a wonderful experience. I wouldn’t trade the hours in the gym or on the softball field for anything. I loved watching my sister pursue her passions.
My aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins have also always been there for me. I have fond memories of us watching Independence Day parades, and gathering for Thanksgivings, Christmases, and birthdays.
They show up in small ways too. One of my most cherished routines is a weekly phone call with my uncle. We have been doing it for so long that I can’t remember how it started. Nearly every Saturday morning starts the same way. I try my best not to take it for granted, because not everyone has a loving family.
Some people come into your life and stay, even if they are not family. For me, there are two people in particular who came and never left. People like them are hard to find.
My former paraprofessional was one of them. She met me when I was just a preschooler. For a decade, she was always there for me at school. She seldom missed work and truly loved her job.
More than that, she was there for the quiet heartbreaks too. She was there for me when both of my grandmothers developed dementia, during the death of my childhood dog, and through numerous medical procedures.
When my childhood dog Lowell passed away in 2021, she was one of the first people I called. She came over the very next day. We sat together and talked about all of the memories we had of Lowell. She remembered him like family because anything that mattered to me mattered to her.
The other person was an instructor at the martial arts school where I took lessons. Over the years, we grew closer. He is now my best friend, roommate, and full-time personal care assistant.
He, too, has been there through the quiet heartbreaks and tough times. He has taken me to numerous doctors’ appointments, and physical therapy appointments. He has seen me through Botox injections and two major surgeries. He has also taken care of me when I have been sick.
I’ve always known they both really care about me. My former paraprofessional knew my favorite food was mac and cheese and that Reese’s Cups were my favorite candy. My best friend knows what my favorite juice flavors are and what kind of music I like.
My life has been shaped by love in all its forms. From my moms and sister to my extended family, and the two people who chose to stay, each one has held me through joy and heartbreak. Their care has been constant, their presence a gift. I carry their love with me, and it gives me strength every single day.