she left me her legacy

Everyone processes grief differently. For me, the healing began when I recently discovered a document of my grandmother’s writing that I’d transcribed almost 8 years ago and had forgotten about since.

Almost a year after her death, it felt like fate. So I decided to compile it all into a mini book — a keepsake of her words and her legacy. A small part of her to hold on to in the moments that I miss her most.

My Dadi Ammi was the essence of her namesake: Noorjahan (نور جہاں), roughly translated from Arabic and Urdu to “light of the world.” She was radiant, with a heart large enough to accommodate every person who crossed her path. Even during her illness, she fulfilled her role as matriarch, and then some: always putting others’ needs above her own, turning strangers into friends, lending a shoulder to cry on no matter how minuscule one’s troubles could be.

Every day, I am striving to become the woman she would’ve wanted me to be. Some days are harder than others, but I am reminded — through her — that your trials should never break your spirit. Like many of us, my grandmother knew loss and heartbreak but her soul remained pure, luminescent. Her writing echoed this unshakable strength, selflessness, and wisdom. And it is just a small encapsulation of her magnanimous being.

Dadi Ammi, thank you for trusting me with your words. For showing me the power of writing — the ultimate act of self-preservation. I love you.

“Until we meet again in the everlasting world of tomorrow’s dream, where the power of love is untouchable and the pain of sacrifice is invaluable.” — Ramona Matta

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