Learning to be loved
A memoir
I was shaking with emotion. I was tightly holding on to the railing to stop myself from tripping over in my attempt to walk up the flight of stairs. Someone had just shown me love beyond the point I thought was possible.
Omair was the first person I met at the MIT international students orientation. It was shortly after I had arrived in the US seven years ago, having left Sri Lanka for the first time. Omair was a tall, burly kid from Pakistan. He had a glorious smile that never ceased, which made him stand out even in the middle of that very diverse group of kids. We talked about Cricket, our long flights to America, and our various dormitory options. I was excited that we were both part of the same pre-orientation program focused on Particle Physics. What better setting for a nerdy-bromance to flourish?
During the months and years that passed, we hung out a fair amount. Our activities were predictable; games of cricket, watching movies, trips to local Indian restaurants and “collaborating” on problem-sets. We bonded over cultural commonalities and the need to push through the intensely demanding academic environment at MIT Computer Science.
Meanwhile, largely unknown to Omair, I was going through my own transformative journey. Soon after the excitement passed, I was struggling with loneliness and depression. The worst of it was the first couple of years. As a result, during the last two years of college I tried to distance myself from everything I associated with my past, including my former cultural identity. So as years went by, I saw less of Omair. I intentionally kept all my woes hidden from my best friend at MIT; I was ashamed of them.
Post college we drifted apart further. I was in California working for Oracle Corp., then I moved to London to start a startup and finally had moved back to San Francisco to grow my company.
My social circle had expanded but my struggle with loneliness continued. Having thought of myself as a major introvert, I walled myself off from seeing depth in my relationships. Having being an immigrant at a young age, I began to worry if there was anyone who cared if I suddenly dropped dead.
Sometime in early 2010 Omair called me. His voice was loud and he spoke rapidly, with a big smile that I could feel through the phone. He declared that he was getting married in Miami and wanted me to prepare a little speech. I was incredibly happy for my friend and particularly thrilled to get to see him again.
When the date arrived, I showed up in Miami with my speech in-hand. I hadn't thought much further into the what was expected of me. Omair’s family were Muslim and the concept of a best-man wasn’t a cultural norm; I didn’t bother to ask.
Just hours from wedding as I was preparing in my room, there was a knock at the door. A mutual friend of ours stood there panicked — he had forgotten his suit! Grabbing my phone and my friend, we rushed out to go last-minute suit shopping. With time running out, my phone then ran out of juice.
Glancing at my watch as I ran towards the ceremony hall, I noticed that I was exactly 25 minutes late! I expected the event to be well under way. Hoping to quietly slip in, I noticed a group of guests looking flustered by the door. As I approached, they exclaimed with fanfare, “Where were you?!” They ushered me towards a room filled with more people.
There I found Omair, his family, and the entire grooms’ party. One glancing at his wristwatch, one tapping her foot on the floor, one wiping a bit of sweat off her neck. The room sprang into action the moment I walked in.
“Dilan! There you are! Now we can start!” exclaimed Omair, the creases on his forehead giving way to a beaming smile.
Then it hit me — Omair had refused to allow the ceremony commence till I arrived.
And there I was, climbing the stairs to the ceremony hall, accompanied by Omair and all his relatives, yet barely able to take the next step. My heart was thumping and my head was spinning. What just happened had crushed my beliefs about the way people worked.
All my life I have craved love the most but didn’t know if I had it. Then here was my dear friend who I had barely seen in years, holding up his own wedding ceremony for twenty-five minutes, because I was late to show up.
In that moment I will never forget, my life changed. I had learned without a doubt, that there are people in my life who love me deeply.
