Ali Abbas’ Story
Experiencing a heart attack at the age of 37, just a day before my birthday, was merely one of the less distressing days of 2022, which speaks volumes about that year.
It was August 26th, a Friday during a bank holiday weekend. My little girl was gone before she had a chance to meet her brother, her mum or me.
Let's rewind a little to the 20 week scan a few weeks earlier and we went into the hospital bickering about finding out the gender of our baby, I already knew she was going to be a girl. And then, the world stopped and so did my heart it felt like. "I'm really sorry" is how the sentence started, the rest of what the sonographer said was a blur.
A few excruciating weeks went by where it felt like a death by a thousand cuts. At first we were told she had a bleed on the brain, then slowly it was more clear that what she actually had was a brain tumour. And it was growing rapidly.
A few weeks before she passed we had a choice to make. Continue the pregnancy and risk my wife's life in the process, or terminate. My wife wasn't having any of it. "She will go on her terms not mine" she said. And I agreed to support her come what may. Internally I was dying slowly. The prospect of losing not only my child but my wife, and the thought of down the line explaining to my son why I didn't step in to save his mum from dying?
I used to stand in the shower crying, hiding it from everyone. It's hard enough trying to process losing your child, but potentially losing your wife at the same time? I used to look at my son and think ignorance truly is bliss in life.
The moment came, her heart stopped beating and that hurt will forever be etched in my heart. Not being able to protect your child, to take their pain away, make things better. Isn't that what you do as a parent?
The second most painful thing ever was having to bury my child. Leaving her in the cemetery and walking away is a pain like no other. And then came the emptiness and anger. There was a lot of anger. Not at life, but at doctors and hospitals and the utter lack of compassion. Anger consumed me for a while. But my wife being the woman she is made me open up to a complete bunch of strangers, she literally dragged me there and I thank her for it.
As a man, you don't know how to express emotions and feelings. Especially as an Asian man. It isn't something we do. Not about things like this.
Time doesn't heal, time just passes. You just learn to deal with your feelings of hurt and pain and loss. People don't say the right things, they say what they think they should. But you learn to find positives and accept that what is meant to be in life will always be. Because if you don't, you're left wondering "what did I do to deserve this?" Well, if not you, then who?
