3 Uber Drivers on the Day of my Dad's Death

This is a story about three Uber drivers on the day of my dad’s death.

I recognize that this story is fragmented and through the lens of my own experiences. Therefore, it's *a* version of events, not *the* version of events.

“I work in the community — I can tell you where to go,” said Syed. This calm, steady way-finding was offered after overhearing a phone conversation with one of my best friends where I, still in shock, was sharing that I had no idea how to locate my mother in the hospital less than an hour after my dad had collapsed and passed away. “I come here often,” Syed continued once I finished my call. “I know where you need to go.”

“I can tell that you are strong — I’m so sorry for your loss,” said Kirpal after witnessing a discussion about arrangements for my father and the baby steps that my me and my mother were going take next: travel back to my parent’s house; clean up my dad’s illness; collect my mother’s things; call another Uber; go and stay at my place.

“I’m thinking of my own dad,” said Trushar with tears in his eyes. “My prayers are with you,” as we sat in traffic on the way to my home, quietly traversing a sharp turn in the history of our family together.

I’ve done my best not to make this story about me, but inevitably it is. My request, though, is to try to avoid my narrativized centre of gravity: please refrain from adding comments about me or the loss of my dad.

Instead, I kindly ask that you reflect. Reflect on the many folks in our communities who, whether in their job descriptions or not, bind us — who reach out, often to strangers, and connect by helping us find our ways, offering support, and empathizing with our experiences.

Who might experience a very different reality than you. Who might face discrimination or abuse daily. Who might be trying to navigate and thrive in a system that’s not designed for them. Who might, more often than not, go unrecognized for their contributions, or worse yet, be ignored all together.

It’s what my dad — once a taxi driver — would have done.