On Wednesday, November 4, at around 8:30 at night, my mother, Christine Anne Khanna, died. She was surrounded by family and some close friends. I held her hand as she died.

While this is devastating, I take comfort from the fact that she isn’t suffering anymore. And she suffered quite a bit toward the end of her life. She handled it all bravely and with an unwavering optimism. I will never forget that and it gives me inspiration.

I have no regrets about how she died. I was with her, she knew that I loved her, I knew that she loved me. My whole family was there. Her family from England visited her before she died, including my cousin Camille’s 10 month old son, William, who made my mother smile countless times in the last week of her life.

I’m still obviously processing all of this. But I will miss my mother. I always knew that she was warm and caring, always smiling, always thinking the best of people, generous, welcoming, and beautiful. But over the past two weeks I got a chance to see how the rest of the world saw her and all of that came through to everyone that she knew.

My sister chose a poem for my mother’s memorial cards, a poem attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson (though apparently that’s not necessarily true). It reads:

To laugh often and love much:
To win respect of intelligent people
And the affection of children;
To earn the approbation of honest critics
And endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give one’s self;
To leave the world a little better,
Whether by a healthy child,
A garden patch,
Or redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm
And sung with exultation;
To know even one life has breathed easier
Because you have lived…
This is to have succeeded.

That describes my mother so well. She touched so many people and helped so many people to smile. Though her life was cut short, it was undeniably a success. I’ll miss her, but I’ll always be proud of her and I’ll always think of her as an example of how to be a better person.

Rest in peace, mum.