🤲🏼 Naeem Lodhi: The Weight of the Truth and a Final Dua in the Drawing Room

Naeem was one of my younger cousins, and along with his elder brother Wasim, he was probably the one I spent the most time with growing up. If you take out our earliest infant years—though I am certain we were still together then, playing whatever version of games infants play—the first twenty-six years of my life were spent alongside them. We were cousins, best friends, and the kind of relatives you are never awkward around (read this with a smile). 😊

There are many wonderful stories I could share about Naeem, but the most unforgettable is our last in-person meeting. He came to my home to offer his condolences following the passing of my mother, his Mumani.

When Ammi passed away, I was staying at the house in Lahore as relatives and friends dropped by to pay their respects, as is our tradition. One day, Naeem called to say he wanted to visit later that afternoon. When I hung up and told my siblings and family in the room, my brother-in-law Irfan quietly turned to me and said, “Naeem has changed a lot. When you see him, you might not even recognize him.”

Naeem had always been MashaAllah healthy and deeply fond of good food. Assuming Irfan meant he had put on some weight, I smiled and replied that it wouldn’t surprise me at all. Irfan shook his head and said it was the exact opposite: he had lost a tremendous amount of weight. Even then, the truth didn’t register. I simply assumed he was dieting or watching what he ate. No big deal.

In reality, it was a massive deal that no one in my immediate family knew about yet.

Naeem arrived with his family—my bhabhi and his two young sons. Because we hadn’t seen each other in years, perhaps even decades, we greeted each other cordially and asked about our respective lives. He offered his condolences, and together we raised our hands to make dua for Ammi. Duas are the only things that truly reach those who have left us, and I believe in that deeply.

After the formalities settled and we moved into general family small talk, Naeem quietly mentioned that he was facing some health challenges and had been forced to restrict his outdoor activities due to stomach issues. As I listened, I still couldn’t fully comprehend what he was about to say next.

In a completely calm, measured voice, Naeem explained that he had been bouncing between doctors, specialists, and medical tests. What had started as a simple diagnosis for an upset stomach evolved into treatment for a gastrointestinal infection, before finally being revealed as late-stage cancer. He calmly looked at me and said he had just come from a biopsy, and the doctors were already seeing marks on his liver.

I was left completely speechless. A few moments later, Naeem excused himself to use the restroom, leaving me sitting in the drawing room with his wife, his two young boys, and the bitter, crushing reality of life. Just a few days prior, I had lost my own mother to cancer, and now, here was my younger cousin sitting directly across from me, quietly telling me he was fighting the very same battle.

All I could do was look at his wife. I tried my best to offer words of encouragement, asking her to hold onto hope and telling her that InshaAllah everything would be okay. I knew they were empty words in the face of such a storm, but it was the only comfort I had the strength to offer at that time. I looked at her and said, “May Allah do what is best for him, and for everyone else.”

The next day, Wasim—who was visiting from the UK—came to the house to offer his condolences. After we made dua and swapped family updates, the conversation naturally turned to his brother. With tears in his eyes, Wasim confirmed the devastating truth: Naeem’s biopsy results had come back malignant.

A few days later, I traveled back home to the US. A few months after that, the news reached me that Naeem had passed away. He was younger than me, and in my opinion, he left this world far too early. But of course, who am I to question Allah’s grand schema? I miss Naeem dearly, and I pray that Allah grants him a peaceful hereafter and a beautiful place in Jannah, InshaAllah.

بچھڑا کچھ اس ادا سے کہ رت ہی بدل گئی اک شخص سارے شہر کو ویران کر گیا

(He parted with such a grace that the very season changed; a single soul has left the entire city desolate.)