It is true I didn’t have a formal relationship with you. I wasn’t your friend, and I certainly wasn’t family. I saw you twice a week, but those few hours were magical. I wish I could have more of them, with you, among all the other children.
But cancer got you.
I wish it hadn’t. I wish you were like the other few who got cured before my eyes and were all set to dream big and work towards those dreams. But you’ll be gone in a few days, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. I wish you had more time. I wish you could live more.
I wish you had more time, so you could learn about Mathematics and English and think about Newton’s apple, and realise it’s all worthless in the end. I wish you had enough time to give exams so you could stress about it the night before and try to cram everything and I wish you were able to experience the joy of getting a decent grade and passing on to the next year. I wish you lived just long enough to experience the hormonal changes that puberty punches you with and then the mood swings and the cravings for chocolate. Oh, I wish you stayed long enough to binge eat chocolate while binge watching your favourite shows during the summer.
I wish you lived long enough to experience first love, the sensation of falling in love so hard and so fast that it hurt, and then hurting even more during your first heartbreak. I wish you lived long enough to show off to the world what a real fighter you are by putting a smile and moving on, moving on towards your passion. I wish you lived long enough to discover your passion and discover it again, re-discovering yourself every single day of your life.
I wish you lived long enough to know why your mother cried when you did, I wish you lived long enough to hold their hands. I wish you lived long enough to make it big in the career you chose, or maybe not so big. I wish you lived to experience failure and let downs, and then those moments of glory and accomplishments.
But you won’t live long enough.
And it makes me so sad that the little girl I cradled in my arms won’t be able to see the crazy, cruel, charming world that she lived in for the brief period of less than 3 years. You won’t be able to live long enough to even begin to understand to true marvels of life, and what a tragedy that is.
But you lived a meaningful life in your own sense. In those few years, you fought harder than most people do in their entire lifetimes. You may not understand it, but the fight you gave was extraordinary. You lived long enough to cry and to laugh, to get all the piggy back rides from your older friends. You lived long enough to draw and paint, to make origami butterflies with everyone else, and, most of all, you lived by trying to make them fly. Such a tiny person, such a big dreamer. You lived to listen to Taylor Swift sing about Harry Styles in “Style” and God, did that calm you down when you were in pain? I wish I could gift you Taylor Swift albums and I wish you could take them to Heaven with you.
Heaven. I wish Heaven exists, only for you. A little angel like you deserves to live in Heaven. And I hope you are going to read this one day from up there (I’m assuming they have WiFi up there by now).
I will miss you, Avishka. But I promise, I will cherish you and try to live some of my life on your behalf.
Update: Avishka passed away within a day of going back home. Rest in Peace, Little one.