I don't know what made me open my eyes from my meditation in that moment and reach over for my phone.
An instant later, in a chat box:
"Irim."
No happy or easy conversation ever begins with my name. Ever. I knew my Baz Luhrmann moment had arrived - that I was about to be blindsided at 18.23 on some idle Saturday.
"I have something really terrible to tell you."
In that instant I knew. Because any of the other horrific possibilities I could imagine would have come from our mutual friend, that girl who had been my lab assistant and the baby sister I never had, herself...and I would have been able to hold the space, to hold her in love and comfort.
The internal screaming into the void began as I watched those three dots, desperate for them to form the words, yet willing them not to, bargaining with G-d to put me in a universe where this wasn't true, where I had another chance to drop her a message saying hi, kiddo, love you, drop me a line.
The dots morphed: Marie was killed in a car accident last night.
NO NO NO NO NO. But there is no getting away from the yes.
What happened? How's Ellie? How can I be here for you? Would you send me a programme from the funeral?
Getting everyone possible to pray for her and the family.
Now, to find pictures and stories for her girls. And the first story begins with my name.
Marie was introduced to me as someone who was going to help me with setting up labs for my classes. She looked older than her 15 years, so I put out my hand and said, "Call me Irim."
And indeed she did, from that day to my birthday, a month ago today, though while I taught, she called me 'Miss Sarwar' in public. I can hear her now - from getting my attention to amused to that head tilt when she was saying, 'Don't try to get that one past me.'
I met her as a young, confused, open-hearted teenager and saw her grow into the whip smart, funny, loving, generous, warm, take-no-crap woman that she became. Our conversations, no matter how far apart, never wasted time in the shallows, but headed straight for the depths - of our lives, of the world's situation, of our theology and spirituality. Who is G-d? What does it look like to love Him? How do we live our lives? She was one of the few people from whom I hid nothing.
Oh, except for one thing, which you now know, hon: that every time you asked me to pray for you and it was answered, I lit that candle to Our Lady. Catholic win. 😝
Just a couple of days ago, I saw she was on Messenger and meant to type: Hi, kiddo, love you, drop me a line. I got distracted and forgot, but didn't worry about it because I thought we had all the time in the world.
We didn't. You don't. Drop someone that line, tell them you love them, forgive them, hold them tight.
Because you never know when your 18.23 on some idle Saturday will come.
