The first birthday after a death...
What the grief journey looks like through the eyes of a married entrepreneur with two toddlers...
Aleem Brohi, affectionately known as Jamoo Mamoo, was born in Pakistan on July 10, 1936. His life was wildly interesting. A bit of a nomad, his life journey took him through several continents and dozens of countries, ultimately landing him in the U.S., where he would plant himself closer to family. To me, he was one of the most constant figures in my life and the closest thing to a grandparent I could have ever asked for. He died in a home he loved, just feet away from people he loved, on July 31, 2022.
Today is his first birthday our family will celebrate after his death. I find myself moving a bit slower today. It seems harder this morning to get my brain going. Part of that is likely caused by the 48 hours I just wrapped up with two bananas toddlers who have picked up two absurd habits… Nico starts every sentence by saying, “Ooh la la!”
Why is he doing that? Who the fuck knows. But it’s equally adorable as it is annoying. On the other hand, Coco is going through a growth spurt and is eating everything in the house. When she’s not shoveling her fourth helping of spaghetti into her mouth, she’s kicking the shit out of anything and anyone she can get close to. Primarily Nico.
She kicks him, and he starts crying; she gets sad that he’s crying and starts wailing, and they both crumble in my or Jess’ lap and sob for 5 minutes.
Rinse. Repeat.
The other reason for my sluggish start to the day is my renewed sadness about losing a beloved uncle. To clarify, he was my great uncle, brother to my maternal grandmother. I’m remembering so many absurd things about our time together. In the ’90s, a silly trend emerged where teens would refer to people as <first_name>-meister, ripped from SNL’s Makin Copies guy. My sister and I started referring to Jamoo Mamoo as “J-meister” every time he walked in the door, so naturally, he had his license plate changed to a vanity plate with the word JMEISTER proudly leading him everywhere he went, and remaining until the day he died.
I also am thinking of, and am profoundly grateful for, some more meaningful moments. Jamoo got to meet both my son and daughter before he died. Not just meet, but spend time with them, as evidenced by this short clip of Jamoo and Nico watching what ended up being 20+ hours of Cocomelon* together.
I bring all of this up because these renewed feelings of loss make me realize that everything I’ve learned about grief over these past 3 years working on Chptr is true. Grief never really goes away, and the first 18 months of “firsts” (birthday, Christmas, etc., without them) feel gut-wrenching. I would give anything to talk with him again, to say I’m sorry for not being there for his last days. That won’t happen, so I wish I could gather all his friends and family together (like we did at his funeral) and spend the evening telling stories about him. That also won’t happen (for many reasons too complicated to share here).
I created Chptr because I wanted my kids to have a place to go where they could learn about who I was as a person outside of being their father. I want them to understand the same about their Mamoo and anyone else we lose along the way who shaped their lives without them fully comprehending how much so. Our team is constantly working to make group conversations (like the one I previously referenced) happen more seamlessly. We are also making sure that, whether it’s at the first birthday or 3 decades after the death, I have a place to go where I can ask questions of people who knew him. A way to keep learning from him.
That’s another thing I’ll remember. My uncle saw everything I’ve ever done to this point in my life. He was at my high school, college, and grad school graduations. He was at my wedding and held both of my kids as newborns. He was at my food and wine festival in Atlantic City, hung out with Venus Williams, and was at the opening of The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas (jamming out to Jay-Z and Coldplay alongside a room of 2k celebrities). He attended the first three Life is Beautiful festivals. Finally, he got to see me launch Chptr.
Grief doesn’t ever end, but being able to look back at those moments and relive them, in a way, gives the entire experience a sprinkle of positivity. I hope to see my grandkids’ major milestone moments one day and try as hard as I can to be even a fraction of a part of their life as he was of mine.
Shameless plug, here’s my uncle’s Chptr. Download the app and click the link to view it. Leave a message, picture, or other memory if you remember him.
Happy birthday Jamoo Mamoo.
Rehan.
*Don’t, under any circumstances, let your kids watch Cocomelon. It’s brain-degrading, numbing, insanity-inducing garbage that the devil (or Elon) may have placed on this earth to take control of the human race.
I always love your words and vulnerability ...thank you for sharing!