Law Students

A New Year

By Athar Khan

I was in Karachi when the clock struck midnight on December 31st. It had been only 4 days since Benazir Bhutto’s death and the usually overcrowded city of 20 million still looked like a ghost town. When 2008 arrived, it was greeted by the usual celebratory (and completely idiotic) aerial shooting. My first thought was about my upcoming California Bar exam in July. The bar was no longer “next year.” Instead, it was only a few months away. After a few indulgent minutes of self-pity, I decided to call it a day.

The next few days brought many pleasant and long overdue surprises — my parents were finally planning to visit the US, my brother received stellar grades in his MBA classes and was in the final round of interviews, my mom’s cancer treatment had finally been completed, and my sister was planning to relocate closer to where I live. With such an abundance of good news, it didn’t take much effort to forget about the bar.

Then, about three days ago, I called my brother to check on his final interview. He responded by saying “I have some bad news.” As I was formulating an appropriate encouraging response to a career disappointment, my brother told me that our uncle — who I had spoken to barely a couple of days earlier — had passed away a day ahead of his wedding anniversary. I was not prepared for this statement. He was forty eight and in good health. My immediate thought was “are you sure he’s not just asleep? has anyone tried to wake him up?” I think that is called the Denial Stage. Interestingly enough, I didn’t feel sad. I was more in shock than anything else.

It has now been two days since this happened and I am finally beginning to feel sad. Is this the Acceptance Stage? I am now replaying all the countless memories I have of my uncle and what an all-around good guy he was. Of course work, school and general human interactions help ease the harshness of such realities. Still… the finality of this event and my utter inability to do anything about it have a sting so bitter that it pierces through whatever relief I can find in the preceding devices.

My uncle left behind two girls and a boy ranging in ages from fourteen to twenty two. If I am so affected by this untimely departure, one can only imagine how these three must feel. How unkind is life without the soothing support of a parent? That is a reality these children will have to face. At every life event, the absence of a father will undoubtedly be felt. Still, with heroic patience, they articulated to me, their feelings. I wonder if I could have been that coherent and restrained at such a time. To his — and his wife’s — credit, these are three excellent kids.

When I try and comprehend the magnitude of this tragedy and the grace and composure exhibited by my uncle’s children, I begin to question whether I have any right to voice any complaints about a bar exam. Worse things have been known to happen to people. This is just an exam that I need to prepare for and get past. It isn’t a final, irreversible event. And regardless of whether I pass or fail, I will still have my family around me, and three children to look up to for inspiration.

Full post as published by Atharkhan on January 18, 2008 (boomark / email).