Five Minutes From Forever

March 2020

April 3, 2020

Dearest Solomon,

I’m sitting here as you make your first attempts at sleep tonight. This letter has tormented me for days. I don’t want to write it but I feel I must. We live in extreme times.

Five minutes. In the broad scope of life, it’s absolutely insignificant. But now, with time at my back. I have learned so much about it I didn’t want to leave you without this thought. More importantly, I didn’t want to not have my own last five minutes with you.

The problem with time is that it doesn’t matter until you don’t have more of it. That may be true for almost everything, but time is the exception. We can’t create more of it, we’re human. The bigger problem with time, though, is that we don’t know what we know until much later.

I wish and hope that when you first read this letter I am still here with you, but these days I don’t know anymore — not that I ever knew, but I could at least pretend. But if not, there are too many things I still wish to tell you. I can’t tell you everything, so let me tell you the most important thing.

Over the last few weeks, we have been in quarantine from a virus that we don’t really know what to do with. While our little family unit has been well and healthy, I am changed forever by the stories of families and lives abruptly brought to their conclusion unexpectedly, unabashedly, and undesirably. I’ve been blessed to not experience too much death and true loss in my life. I consider it a privilege.

But there were 2. And they taught me more about life than anyone else, I imagine. From these letters, I hope you know that’s your grandpa, Pops, and great-grandma, Ma. I didn’t have my five minutes with them, but maybe sharing them here for you will give you a little more insight into me, what I felt, and how I remember the world.

Pops

The last time I talked to you, it was 7pm the night before you passed. The last time I really talked to you was the Friday before you passed. I replay both those days constantly in my mind. I imagine all the things we talked about and all the things we should have talked about.

Today I’m 45. I was just 25 at the time. But Pops, I wish I had said all these things, not just then, but now.

• Thank you
• I love you
• I’m sorry I disappointed you so much in the choices I made
• I’m going to be OK, I promise
• You know what you know and I know what I know, both of us can be right
• You don’t need to worry about me, I am gonna make it
• You’ll never know the influence you had on my life, but it was tremendous
• I turned out a good man, I think
• I have an amazing family now
• I know now why you were always so hard on us
• I still wish those lessons didn’t need to be so hard
• I wish you could have seen me now, or just me then
• I don’t know why you were proud from a distance
• I wish I had that then, and still now
• I wish we had more time to get things right

Ma

The last time I saw you, we had just taken you back home after your doctor visit. You were having trouble breathing. I carried you upstairs and put you in Pops chair. I was rushing off to somewhere but it didn’t matter where.

The last thought I had as I closed the door that day, was “No, thank you.”

You passed just a few days later. I never got to speak to you again. If I had just 5 more minutes, I would have told you:

• I love you so much, Ma
• Thank you for raising me
• Thank you for defending me no matter what anyone said
• Thank you for making us roti whenever we asked
• Thank you for wearing that damn wool hat all year round, I can’t remember you without it
• Thank you for teaching me the Hindi you knew
• Thank you for letting us sleep in your bed every night, no matter how old we were
• Thank you for all the jumbee stories that scared the shit out of us when we were kids
• Thank you for being our mom when mom had to work
• Thank you

Daddy

I can’t give you your last 5 minutes with me, but if you will indulge me, let me give you my last five minutes with you, son.

• I love you more than anything in the world
• You have always made me the proudest father
• I want you to do what you think is right, be the best you imagine
• Be a good person, be good to people, remember my words
• Measure your life in happiness, not success
• Your mother is the most amazing woman I have ever known, next to my mom and Ma, my Grandma
• Be good to your mom, God I hope she has survived me
• I never felt successful, but that always kept me motivated — always strive for the best you
• You’ll never do everything, so always do your best
• I had the best life I could have imagined, hands down
• I wish my brothers were my best friends, I admire them all in their own way
• That said, I had the best friends I could imagine, no exceptions
• Everyone who matters will be there when it matters
• I wasn’t perfect, even if I pretended to be. I was impatient, obsessive, selfish, self-righteous, ignorant., inexperienced, foolish, cautious, rebellious and so many other things all at the same time.
• I did the best I could muster
• My only regret, without hesitation, is that I have left you already. Forever already wasn’t enough time.

I’m sorry. That’s all I could get out in 5 minutes. If you have read this far, I hope you’ve seen how important 5 minutes can be. More importantly, I hope you will share your own now, not later. Don’t wait.

Tonight, we spent an hour talking to some of our closest friends. Everyone couldn’t be there, but we made the most of it.

I had this letter in the back of my head the whole time. I snapped this picture to make sure the memory would last forever.

Virtual Healthy Happy Hour — Notice the little face in the background

Later, I sat with you as I do most nights. As has become our ritual, I lay next to your bed. For the first time, you brought you little blanket over a d lay next to me. You said, “Daddy I can cover us both” as you cuddled up next to me.

I tried to leave eventually, but you followed me. You protested “I can’t sleep by myself”. But of course, you can. And you must.

You are never alone, son. Remember that. Remember us.

Love always,
Dad

I don’t always have a song that goes with the moment, but there’s one that comes to mind right now.

Monsters by James Blunt

Oh, before they turn off all the lights
I won’t read you your wrongs or your rights
The time has gone
I’ll tell you goodnight, close the door
Tell you I love you once more
The time has gone
So here it is

I’m not your son, you’re not my father
We’re just two grown men saying goodbye
No need to forgive, no need to forget
I know your mistakes and you know mine
And while you’re sleeping, I’ll try to make you proud
So daddy, won’t you just close your eyes?
Don’t be afraid, it’s my turn
To chase the monsters away

Oh, well I’ll read a story to you
Only difference is this one is true
The time has gone
I folded your clothes on the chair
I hope you sleep well, don’t be scared
The time has gone
So here it is

I’m not your son, you’re not my father
We’re just two grown men…