#1 Words to live by

Oh, and welcome to my Substack!

Yesterday was my eldest child’s 6th birthday. In today’s newsletter, I look back on a letter I wrote to him on his 1st birthday – just months after losing my Dad. It shares my humble words of advice and mantras for life, and reflects on whether they stand the test of time.

I’d love to hear from you! When you’re done reading, feel free to comment below — what guiding words would you share with your loved ones?

First, a brief introduction:

Hi there, I’m Ruhie! A writer and aspiring author working on my first book, a doctor, a mum, and the daughter of an incredible man who died in 2019 from a terminal illness.

Welcome to my Substack where I’ll be sharing letters to my Dad, Sanjay, reflecting on experiences that have touched my heart and topics that are important to me – things I would talk to him about if he were alive today. While these letters are deeply personal, they explore themes that are universal and timeless – love, hope, loss, healing, family, parenting, creativity, what it means to live fully, and so much more. I truly hope that something in my words and story connects with you, your life, and your story.

One of the hardest things I’ve found about losing a loved one is that life goes on, but they aren’t here to see it or share it with us. I am a mum of three now – sleep-deprived, chaotic, fiercely adoring. I am an advocate for motor neurone disease (MND), also known as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), and am passionate about raising awareness for this often misunderstood and devastating illness that took Dad’s life along with countless others. I am a writer now too whose desire to tell Dad’s story, our family’s story, my story, reignited a childhood passion for writing and a lifelong dream of one day being a published author. But Dad doesn’t know any of this. We continue to live and grow while our loved one remains frozen in time.

I often find myself wishing I could talk to him, get his advice, let him know what’s going on in my head, my heart, and my life. It's not like we had long deep and meaningful conversations while he was still alive. Dad was typical of most Indian men in the baby boomer generation – stoic, not overly expressive, and certainly not one to psychoanalyse things. But he knew everything about my life, mostly through osmosis because he happened to be around when I was chatting to Mum or my younger sister Sonal about all the things! He was one of the first people to know about Aviv, my first year med school crush — now husband and dad to our three kids: Az (6), Riz (turning 4) & Zaz (6 months) (not exactly their real names, though they do have a nice ring to them). Dad was the person I’d turn to when I needed support, advice, a sounding board, or a pick me up. He didn’t always get it right (does anyone?), but I’d always leave a conversation with him feeling better, lighter. He had a knack for knowing what was called for in any given situation, whether that was encouragement, comfort, solutions, a pep talk, or in some cases, a talking down. He always had my back and was there for me when I needed him, something I miss so much now. I miss him being an active part of my everyday life.

But, I believe our relationships with our loved ones carry on long after they are gone – in our  memories, in our hearts, and through our conversations. Here, I have tried to cultivate a space to keep Dad’s legacy alive. A way to keep him present in my life even in his absence.

So, yes, these are letters from my heart to my Dad. But I know as well as you do that they are one-sided. In truth, I am sharing my experiences and reflections on life with you all. And I’d love to hear yours too. I want this to feel like a community 🫶

I hope my words may:

• Offer support and solace to others in a time of need

• Encourage you to believe in yourself and your ability to face hard things 

• Challenge people to stop living on autopilot

• Discover what is truly meaningful to you — what lights you up and makes life worth living, and

• Inspire us all to live fully, love deeply, laugh often, and make the most of the time we are given.

Thanks again for being here and sharing this journey with me. I look forward to connecting with you.

Ruhie xx

And now, on to today’s newsletter…

Dear Dad,

Can you believe Az turned 6 yesterday? He was only 6 months old when you died. It feels like a lifetime ago, and yet, there are times when the memories are so vivid it feels like just yesterday. I can picture him, a smiley, chubby, cheeky baby cooing and giggling at you in your wheelchair, wrapping his moist little fingers around yours which lay curled, wasted and paralysed on the armrest. I remember having to angle him in such a way that you could see his face because you couldn’t turn your head, and placing him where he could touch you because you couldn’t reach out to him. I picture you, smiling down at him, whispering in your voice made slow and raspy by MND/ALS, “hello, little champ. How are you?” He loved you unconditionally, and you, him.

Now, that same kid is at school! He started Kindergarten this year and he loves it. He’s made so many friends – he gets his social butterfly side from you. He has beautiful handwriting (definitely not something he inherited from either of us). And he can read now. You should hear him sounding out words, and see his face light up when he figures out a new one.

There’s so much you’ve missed. You would have been so proud of him. He is kind and funny, cheeky yet sweet. And he would have adored you.

I was looking back on a letter I wrote to Az on his 1st birthday – yes, a letter within a letter, how meta! Hey, maybe I should show him. He can probably read some of it now, unlike when I actually wrote it. Back then, I think I did it more for me than for him. In it I reflected on the first twelve months of his life, and penned some motherly advice to him for the future.

I’m curious if I would say the same things to him today? Would I share the same guiding words, the same principles and values with his younger siblings, or anyone else for that matter? Let’s see. Here goes:

As I watch you sleep now (I swear I don’t always hover around you when you sleep! But you’re sick today my sweet child, so you want me close and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be), I can’t help but wonder what your future will hold.

On this special occasion – your first big milestone – I want to share with you a few words of wisdom I hope you will find helpful as you grow up:

1. Be kind to others. You don’t know their story – where they’re coming from, what they’re going through or for that matter what is yet to come for them. Treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself.

2. Speaking of which, be kind to yourself. You are amazing, you are strong, you are beautiful, you are worthy. Never put yourself down or let others put you down. Be the best “you” you can be.

3. The most important thing in life is to be happy. It is far more important than being successful, rich, good-looking or popular. Focus on being happy within yourself, and in turn you will shine your light and spread joy to others around you too.

4. Never forget how loved you are. You have a mum and dad who love you more than life itself and a family who adore you to bits. You are the light of our lives and we will be there for you every step of the way, as will your extended family and friends (both old and new). If you ever feel lost, remember that there is an incredible number of people who love you and will rally around you without fail.

5. Never forget you have a Dada who loves you so much. Every day I see so much of him in you – your radiant smile and deep dimples, the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh, your jolly, carefree and bubbly personality, and so much more – and for that I am so proud and incredibly grateful. He would have given anything to watch you grow up... but know that he is watching over you from beyond and will be there with you in spirit, guiding you on life’s journey.

So, do I stand by these words now, 5 years on? 100% yes.

Miss you every day, Dad. Love you always. Until next time 💌

Ruhie

I’d love to hear from you! What ‘words to live by’ would you share with your loved ones to guide them through life?