#602

Dear Mom,

It’s been 24 years. But in some corners of the hospital, I still see echoes of you.

Today, I saw a mother and daughter in the hospital. The mother was sick, on dialysis, just like you. Her daughter leaned in, kissed her gently, and promised to come back tomorrow with eyes full of hope. I stood there, watching, and suddenly I was no longer a doctor. I was your child again.

I remembered the way you smiled through the pain. I remembered your hands, worn but warm. I remembered the dialysis machine humming beside you, the way you smiled through the pain, the way you held on to grace even when your body was failing. The way you held my hand even when yours trembled. The way you made me feel safe, even when everything around us felt uncertain. The way you smiled even when the pain was loud. The way you gave me everything, even when you had so little left. You were so strong, Mom. And so full of love.

I didn’t say anything to that girl. I didn’t need to. Her love spoke the same language mine did. And her mother, she reminded me of you. Graceful in struggle. Fierce in love.

I wish I could tell you how much you taught me. About humanity, about grace, and about what it means to show up for someone, even when it hurts. I carry those lessons with me every day.

That little girl reminded me of myself, standing beside you, trying to be brave, trying to believe that tomorrow would come. And even when it didn’t, your love stayed. It lives in me still.

Sometimes I wonder what you’d think of me now. Would you be proud? Would you tease me for working too much? Would you tell me to eat better, sleep more, call home?

I miss you. I miss your voice, your warmth, your quiet wisdom. But I feel you in every patient I meet. In the way I speak to my patients. In the way I listen. In the way I never forget that behind every diagnosis is a story, a family, a love like ours. And every patient I care for carries a piece of you with them.

I miss you again. But I carry you. And today, I saw you again, in a daughter’s kiss, in a mother’s fight, in the sacred bond that illness cannot break.

Thank you for being my guide, even now. I hope I make you proud.

With all my heart,  
Nawaf