Blessed
Amy Hill
By Tinat Atifa Masood, Guwahati, India
I’m in lockdown with my father. I lost my mother last year, to cancer. I’m the only child of my parents, and it was important for me to stay with dad and take care of him (my husband and son are together, just the two of them, back at our home). Initially, I thought, “Where will I buy vegetables?” But God has been gracious with us, and we have been blessed with food on the table.
After my mother passed over, my father became an exceptionally quiet person. I’ve never had the chance to spend so much time with him since I was a little girl; this lockdown for us has helped me know so much more about him. I’ve been inspiring my father to do a lot of paintings. He is a fantastic artist– his handwriting was chosen by the Reserve Bank of India way back in 1965, to be printed on the Indian currency notes.
This virus, whatever else it’s doing to us, is defragmenting the world and defragmenting me. Two years ago, I wrote a poem about a conversation with the God of death. In it, he had come to take me away, but I say, “Please let me stay back, because I have a lot to do.”
Six months ago, on the 21st of November, 2019, I had a massive fall and a linear fracture to the skull. My father was unaware of my condition as I lay in bed in a coma. My husband arrived five hours later, but when the ambulance took me to the emergency section of the hospital, the doctors were in a fix, as they didn’t know about my fall. By then my whole body was going through convulsions, and as soon as they stopped, the machine drew a straight line. I was declared clinically dead.
But the doctors worked on me, they gave me CPR and saved my life. They said I would lose my memory, but it looks like it has returned stronger than before. One even said that I am their miracle patient, since only two percent of people going through what I did, survive to see the day.
So even before COVID-19, I had started taking each moment as a special gift. I make it a point to write every day; a poem, a story, or some random thought. And the ample time with myself during this lockdown has given me the opportunity to study art and the famous artists. I have tried my hand at painting, and it has been a very meditative experience. This self-learning has healed me in many different ways.
For me, this year has been a year of being grateful. When I am with myself, especially in the mornings and even before going to bed, praying, I am filled with gratitude to the universe for giving my life back, because I have so much work to do. I have realized that this new life is invaluable, extraordinary, and magical. I have the strength to create stories never before heard or told.