Mehri and her husband are the kind of people who touch and embrace hearts. A kind and generous human being, Mehri has been a devoted mother, a wonderful wife and a great friend to all who know her. In her profession as a highly specialized nurse working with the very ill she was the nurse the patients wanted to have and be with during the very short times they had left. When the word got around that Mehri was terminally ill, there was panic, confusion and then hope. She was told it was too late, the tumor was too large; she only had a few months. Their phone wouldn't stop ringing; they eventually had to request that all inquiries be made through e-mail and stopped answering the phone. Friends and relatives flew from all over the planet to be with her and help in any way they could. Books about alternative medicine, oriental treatments and recipes were sent to her with foods and ingredients assumed to have magical qualities. With her own brand of faith believing in a God that is all love and kindness she smiled through it all and kept saying "har cheh az doust resad khosh ast."

I sat with her and listened with disbelief when she was telling me about her positive experiences with chemotherapy. How nice everyone was, the nurses, the doctors and the hospital staff. She felt good through it all and was grateful; it was like going to heaven, only Mehri could have transformed something as horrible as having massive doses of chemotherapy into a positive experience while keeping her smile. I listened to her talking about her spiritual awakening as she called it and how strong she had become because of it. She had surrounded herself with books by Rumi and Hafez, read Quran and was convinced that her beloved God whom she called friend (doust) was all goodness. I wouldn't dare asking her what she thinks now that she has been so badly betrayed by her beloved. But then I know the answer; with her husband they would say "we have had it so good for so long it won't be fair to complain now." Who said Gods were compassionate and merciful?

The sight of her husband shaving his head when she lost her hair brought many tears and again she was grateful and wore a wig a devoted friend had sent her and joked about the whole affair. Then there was hope, false of course, nevertheless hope. Despite the size of the tumor she was clear from it for a short while and every one hoped that this was the end. May be her faith, her enthusiasm and energy would stop it from coming back. It didn't, it was back again in a short time, this time with vigor and persistence like a savage killer beast. She once told me that sometimes in the hospital with the very ill she gave them large doses of morphine and other painkillers. Unauthorized and against the rules, but as she put it "why let them suffer." Ironically there are bottles of morphine by her bed, but she won't take them, it won't be our Mehri if she did, she will bear it to the end.

I haven't seen her lately and she does not want to be seen, I am ashamed that I do not have the strength to see her in the shape she is now. Amazingly but not surprisingly her only shame is that she has exposed her daughter to pain early in life.

Years ago with her husband they made a pact that they should do a good deed every day of their remaining lives. They kept their promise and good deeds they have done, they gave refuge to several young members of the family and friends who came to Canada with nothing except hope for a better future. They gave them shelter, looked after them and saw them through their education. They opened their door and hearts to anyone who was willing and in a world tarnished by deceit, pretence and greed they simply remained humans. Isn't that the greatest achievement of all to be human? Every bone in Mehri's body is cracking and her vertebras are collapsing, Azim shows up every morning with homemade food and her favorite croissant even though she can't eat it. It is hard to imagine one without the other. Mehri Azimi might not be with us next week or even tomorrow but the memory of the goodness she has been will remain for long and all I can do is to let everyone know about such goodness and remind them that as long as there are people like Mehri and Azim there is hope.