The Valley Between Us

A light overcast hangs above, the air is crisp, and I’m surrounded by lush green forest. It just stopped raining. I’m afraid to move — I don’t want this moment to end. If there were such a thing as perfection, then sitting in a valley encompassed by a mountain range comes pretty darn close. Add to that the fact that Liverpool FC just won its twentieth Premier League title, and I’m in a sweet spot right now. I’m going to soak in this feeling because tomorrow is May 26th — Zayd’s birthday.

I’m writing this from a cabin in the Adirondacks. I’m on a hiking trip with a friend. As we were making our way down a descent, I realized that if Zayd were here, he probably would’ve been with me on this hike. Maybe he’d be celebrating with his own buddies — but I like to think he’d have come along! I can’t believe he would have been thirty. Wait, let me rephrase that. I would have loved to see how he rocked thirty. Our baby brother had a ridiculousness to him, so much personality and so much potential.

You see, he grew up with severe asthma, so naturally there were some limitations to what he could do physically. For that reason, our mom kept an extra close eye on him. He was also the youngest. I say all this to explain why he was our mom’s favorite. Let’s be real — parents don’t need a reason to have a favorite. They just do! My sister and I saw him get away with so much that we never could. It was as if our mom shredded her parenting rule book when it came to him. He could do no wrong, and he knew it!

As he got older, his asthma became more manageable. That’s when he started getting out of the house more, making loads of friends, and really growing into his own. Looking back now, I realize how amazing it is to see one of your younger siblings come of age. He wouldn’t ask me for much unless I asked him first. The first time he asked me for serious help was during a trip to Houston. Walking back from the park, he looked at me and said, “I need your help convincing Mom to let me move to Houston.” It seemed like such a fleeting moment, but it’s a core memory for me. From the very next day, we set the plan in motion.

It took a year to come to fruition, and after a few passionate pleas from him and a promise to our mother that I would look out for him, she agreed. He moved in with me and we lived together for a year. During this time, he bought his first car (with some help from our dad) and got his first job. He worked the night shift at an Amazon warehouse while going to school in the mornings. I saw him pay his dues. I saw him working hard, and I couldn’t have been prouder. Zayd eventually moved out and began building a life on his own terms. I was a little bummed, but there is nothing sweeter than seeing your people grow. I can only imagine that parents feel this warmth and pride a million times more.

The second time he called on me for help… was the day we lost him forever. As he swam through the river and the shortness of breath took over, he called out to me. “Help.” A visceral sensation went through my entire body, and before I knew it, I was back in the river, swimming toward him. That day, I failed. That day, his soul returned to the unity of existence. I write about that experience in the first post of this blog, “My Voice.”

It’s been eight years since, and all our lives have changed. I catch myself fantasizing about what life would be like if he were still here. Would he be working a 9-to-5 or running his own business? Still in Houston or traveling the world? Would he still be into cricket, or would he have made the jump into American football by now? Would he be married? Would he have children? So many questions.

The world doesn’t stop for anyone, and we have to keep moving forward. It’s true that I look back and wish I could have saved him. I’d be lying if that thought didn’t still cross my mind often. In the past, it would’ve derailed my day. Now, I choose to focus on him and the fullness he brought to the world. He was one of the funniest people I’ve known in my life to date. If you were with him, you’d feel how generous he was with his presence and time. Like most of us, Zayd had big dreams and was doing his best to make them a reality. He loved fully. He was always there for the people he loved.

This valley, this stillness, this hike — it’s the kind of place he’d have made fun of until he fell in love with it. So, as we approached the waterfall we were hunting, I realized that I still feel his presence today. It’s all around us. It’s in our shared memories. It’s in every step we take because he made an impact on all of us who knew him. While his physical presence is no more, his spiritual presence is cheering us on. He may have been the last of us to arrive, but he was the first to move on.

He may have been Mom’s favorite. And now, maybe God’s too. That sounds about right.

Happy Birthday! We miss you out here, little bro. Always and forever.