When she asked “how are you doing?”, it wasn’t a casual form of greeting: she wanted to hear

Ili became my first friend after I resettled to the US. The fact that she spoke French while I was trying to grapple with the colloquialisms of the American language was a definite boost to our budding relationship :)

There are some people in life that you meet with whom you immediately connect. Ili was one of these people for me. Perhaps there was an underlying connection between us as we both “came from somewhere else” and we both dealt with the challenges that are implicit in such situations. Then, our lives intertwined: we had kids around the same time, celebrated family events, travelled together, visited each other, recounted endless stories of kid successes (and challenges!). Covid created the opportunity for touching base in different ways – stripped of activities and concentrated on the solace of a shoulder on which to lean.

Ili became my confidante, a person I could trust and with whom I could discuss any topic under the sun without ever fearing embarrassment or judgment. We’d go on long walks with our husbands -- trailing them by at least a mile as we became absorbed in each other’s stories. We don’t know what the guys talked about, but Ili and I always went through a long checklist of whatever it is that was happening in our lives at the time.

To me, what best defines Ili is her complete and selfless interest in others. When she asked “how are you doing?”, it wasn’t a casual form of greeting: she genuinely wanted to hear what you were up to. She’d laugh and enjoy the good times and stories with you. She’d be completely present for you when you dealt with an issue: she’d offer her guidance when asked (always with your interests in mind) or simply listened actively, with a little nod prompting you once in a while or a hand squeezing your arm. There was always the comfort of a person who possibly knew you better than you even knew yourself.

I miss Ili more than I can express. Sometimes, when my phone rings, I think it might be her reaching out. And then I remember that she was brutally taken away from us all in the blink of an eye; that she will never help us again to get around some pernicious (at least in our minds) problem; that we’ll never again see that shining smile with crinkly eyes that just lit up a room. Ili’s death is leaving an irreplaceable void in so many of our lives: thinking of it takes our breath away.