The Remaining Three - left to right: C. Naseer Ahmad( author), Naseer Ahmad, Safeer Ahmad
The Missing Man Formation - Left to right: Empty Chair for Safeer Ahmad (who was in Holland then), Zaheer Ahmad, Bhai Munir Ahmad
Eid Group Photo - Seated left to right: Safeer Ahmad, Zaheer Ahmad, Bhai Munir Ahmad; standing left to right Naseer Ahmad and C. Naseer Ahmad ( author)
The Roses of Our Lives
By C. Naseer Ahmad
Washington, DC
Spring in Washington brings a vibrant transition into the warm embrace of summer, offering us a treasure trove of nature's beauty to cherish. Amongst the enchanting blooms, the resplendent roses take center stage, emanating their mesmerizing beauty with pride. If you take a closer look, you may notice a few fading petals gently descending, while others gracefully scatter on the ground. However, even in their graceful decline, the roses leave behind an exquisite scent that dances in the air, capturing precious memories of their splendor and the fleeting moments of joy they brought. Besides, they carry the promise of new life, paving the way for rosehips and fresh blossoms yet to come.
Life itself mirrors the profound symbolism of the rose. Each morning as we awaken, we gather experiences, both challenging and delightful, from the previous day. Just outside my front door, three resilient rose plants stand tall, serving as a constant reminder of nature's unwavering blessings throughout past and present seasons.
Inside the intimate confines of my bedroom, two elegantly framed pictures hold deep significance. One immortalizes the sacred moment of our wedding, eternally reminding us of the power of love and commitment. The other serves as a poignant tribute to the roses plucked away during the winters of my life. Among those frozen in time, my beloved parents' youngest child – whom everyone called Baby - takes her place in the front row, departed from this world at the tender age of sixteen. Much like the uncertainty of which rose petal will delicately fall, the loved ones within that photograph have also departed, leaving only two of us – my beloved Apa Mateen with a heart of gold and this author - remaining on the right side. As readers encounter such pictures or reflect upon their own families, they may witness the roses lingering or observe them gradually vanishing in an entirely different sequence. Life, with its whimsy, carries its unique design, and such is the essence of existence.
One of the roses taken away on May 26, 2024, by the hands of fate was my cousin, Bhai Munir Ahmad, with whom I spent countless summers. He, along with his younger brother, my namesake, were my trusted playmates during those precious visits from our parents' ancestral hometown. As mischievous young boys, we sometimes found ourselves in the midst of trouble, facing the discipline of my father who was a military officer. However, thanks to the guidance and wisdom of our parents and teachers, we each found our own path to success, traversing different walks of life while cherishing the indelible memories we shared. We were also fortunate enough to witness the blooming of rosebuds in our lives, in the form of our children and grandchildren, who seem to have found the same fertile ground that carried us this far.
In our faith, we say "To Him we belong and to Him we shall return" when a loved one passes away. This profound thought resonates deeply within us. Additionally, we can examine the realities of life, which are equally true and thought-provoking:
"To everything there is a season,
and a time for every purpose under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot."
It is undeniably human to reminisce about the times we spent with our loved ones, just as we relish the sight of our cherished roses. Sometimes, it could be the aroma of a particular dish that brings back memories of enjoying it in the company of a dear one. At other times, it could be the gentle sound of raindrops or the melodies of a piece of music.
Locations, too, can serve as vivid reminders of loved ones – even close friends not related by blood. For instance, while traveling to be with family during this recent loss, each time I crossed Exit 39B, I couldn't help but miss two roses in my life, Dr Riaz Haider and Herb Schmitz, with whom I would often have lunch on the patio overlooking the beautiful landscape of the Congressional Country Club on River Road in Potomac, Maryland. My mind's camera has captured the images of those precious moments together, just as it has captured the gatherings with loved ones.
In a time when owning a camera was considered a rarity, capturing a photograph required a visit to a photographer's shop, creating a treasured visual reminder. This may be a foreign concept to younger generations, but for those of us from the baby boomer era, group photos were rare treats, cherished keepsakes purchased with the joyous celebration money.
It was during one of the Eid holidays that my cousins Bhai Munir, my namesake, myself, and their two younger brothers used the money gifted by our parents to have a group photograph taken in a humble village shop. Little did we realize then that it would encapsulate a moment of our innocent childhood together. Similar to the group photo with my parents, the youngest cousin Zaheer in our group photo somehow ended up departing first. And now, with Bhai Munir's passing, only three of us remain - each one grateful to witness the bloom of countless rosebuds in the form of our children and grandchildren.
The passing of loved ones often brings to mind Hemingway's book "For Whom the Bell Tolls." Instantly, the pages turn to the climax where the badly wounded protagonist Robert Jordan tells his lover Maria and other compatriots to leave the battlefield and go on with their lives.
In a similar fashion, in this real-life human story, Bhai Munir's soul and those of the lost roses of our lives are saying to the roses and the precious rosebuds resplendent on the resilient rose plants of our lives:
"You are me now, and you are all that is left of me. Go on now, bloom to your fullest in the springs and all the seasons of your lives."
