I’d like to treat the years we live in as friends. Instead of being mad at the year and myself for all the untouched and unfinished resolutions, I would rather thank it instead, reflect on what I have learnt and bid it farewell before we all welcome a new friend called 2019.

The happiest moment of 2018 for me happened when I stepped out of the bathroom and told Rauf that it was time to wash up. He crawled onto my lap and as I was getting him ready, Rauf grabbed my face with his strong tiny hands and started to kiss my face repetitively. There I was wrapped in a towel, the most unattractive moment anyone can be caught in and yet my son made me feel so treasured and loved. At that moment I knew that was where I’m meant to be.

2018 was a friend that taught me that respect isn’t something that is given due to status, hierarchy or how any religious book preaches. Respect is rightfully earned.

2018 was a friend that had my patience tested, but made me realised how important it was to always try do to the right thing – even when no one is looking and especially when it comes to taking care of myself and my heart. Peaceful sleeps and clearer conscience is something money can never buy.

2018 was a friend that made me realise that the best kind of holiday isn’t measured by how far you travel or how you travel. The best holiday for me will always be the ones I had with Farah and my Brighton girls. Just friends, a low cost carrier ticket, a manual rented car, no smartphones and disposable cameras. Barely had any money, just enough for food and gas and yet I never felt peace like that before.

But what I learnt most from 2018 was about the ‘other side’. The other perspective. The blessing that was hidden in disguise.

Monica Ubin was my very first friend when I started my job in the company, she sat next to me at work and she had a smile that could light up the world. She had always been open about her cancer struggle, I remember her telling me ‘Liyana, many people pass away from cancer because of stress. So I must smile and be happy because I must win this’. 

I never saw her frown or sad, she only spoke good about people and made us laugh when we’re the ones who were supposed to cheer her up. It didn’t feel like she was gone until one day I dreamt of her, I texted a friend and we both agreed how lucky we were to have Monica in our life. I avoided mourning for her until I spoke about it, but I stopped crying when I imagined Monica’s beaming face, looking at me with that infectious smile. Yes, she had to live with a cruel disease, but the other side of her story are the lives she touched while she lived and how she inspired everyone even after she left.

Cancer became a word that crept back into my life this year. After weeks of persuading my grandpa to see the Dr, it was revealed that he has cancer. The day I wish to never relive again is the day when my mom and aunts sat us all down to tell us about him. We all knew it was bad, we intuitively knew it was serious when he started vomiting and couldn’t eat properly.

I have this habit that when I’m clueless or not happy about something, I repetitively ask myself in my head ‘why why why’. This would typically be followed with an annoying migraine and a string of unanswered questions, until one day my aunt said to us:

‘At least we know we have all this time to spend with papa’

That was when the loop came to a halt and I realised that the ‘why’ questions were never helpful. As horrible as the diagnosis was, I failed to realise the blessing behind this terrible time for my grandpa was the fact that we, as a family, that our time with him is absolutely precious. Some people never get a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones, which makes us very lucky in many, many ways.

When you realise that things are truly bad, that’s when you can put your worries into perspective and decide what’s really important. Filtering out unnecessary drama and bullsh*t became easier for me, and I’m pretty sure my family felt the same too.

I stopped crying the office bathroom, I stopped asking myself when the unavoidable would happen, I stopped searching for flaws and embraced the effort and thought that is being put in for my papa. My aunts and mom developed different coping mechanisms after he was diagnosed. At times I find them hilarious, at times I can’t bring myself to look, but most of the time I find them endearing. Like one aunt became persistent with traditional and alternative medicine. Another aunt became so driven in cleaning my grandparent’s room. The other aunt copes through giving people advice and instructions on what to do in the house.

Once I understood about the ‘other side’, it was easier to see beauty from another angle, even when bad things happen.

2018 was a friend that taught me that the value of friendship is far more important than the number of friends you have. If Rauf and I could have a conversation about anything as adults right now, I wish I could talk to him about this. I’d tell him that there is nothing greater than a friend who has been there for you during your worse, cried with you at your lowest and celebrates with you when you’re the happiest.

I would also tell my son that if the inevitable happens and saying farewell to a friendship is the only way, I hope he won’t be sad for long but feel thankful instead. Be grateful that for a moment in his life he had the honour of calling that person his friend, cherish the stories they shared together, wish them well and don’t speak ill of anyone.

I imagine myself having a cup of coffee, with my son sitting across me enjoying the same drink. I would tell him that the people who are meant to be in your life will always gravitate back towards you no matter how far they wander. But if that doesn’t happen, live his life to the fullest anyway. We don’t live our life for others.

So if I could treat 2018 like a friend, I’d hold it’s hand and thank it for everything that it has carried for me. I’d tell it that I am grateful that it made me realise my self worth, pushed me out of my comfort zone and stopped making me apologise for things that don’t deserve it.

If there could be a word that I’d describe for this year, it would be ‘hikmah’. For everything that has happened, it was the discovery of all underlying reasons and the real purpose behind all that mattered.

2018, thank you, next!