A short story by MINA WONG

Almira Hasan’s newcomer story as told to Mina Wong

I’m Almira Hasan originally from Tehrān. I’ve lived in Toronto since March 2023 with my son, Rustam (Rusty) and daughter-in-law, Darya (Dara).

When COVID restrictions were lifting a year ago, my 2 AM arrival at Toronto’s airport was both confusing and exhilarating: Pearson was an enormous transport base where rules weren’t the same everywhere, but where being able to speak English instantly helped me locate Dara and Rusty. 

To tell a newcomer story, I’ll first talk about my life and family in Iran.

Now retired, I was born in 1962 along with my twin brother, Kareem. Our parents were university librarians who raised us as self-disciplined, hard-working citizens. They also sent us to American international schools to learn English, and to gain a more global worldview.

My brother and I grew up in one of the most tumultuous periods in Iran’s history. By 1978, we experienced social upheavals and political constraints like never before. Our parents also knew post-secondary education would become more restricted. Still, they encouraged Kareem and me to learn and achieve, wherever we could.

In 1980, Kareem studied pharmacy and worked for a hospital before launching his own dispensary. He married lovely Jasmine, a midwife, who later became his first assistant. They had their first child, Alexander (Alex) in 1987. As the pharmacy expanded in size and success, they were blessed with a daughter, Ava in 1989.

With a degree in Middle Eastern Civilizations, I taught Grade 4 Islamic studies at a girls’ school for several years, but eventually joined Kareem’s pharmacy as his second assistant.

I met Salman through Kareem when they were pharmacists at the same hospital. Our parents found Salman so desirable they urged me to marry him. Then Salman and I lived with his Mama until heart failure took her from us in 1991. Meanwhile, we had Rusty in 1988.

During this time, my parents retired to orchards outside Kīlān, but not too far from the rest of us.

I did know about Salman’s remission from childhood leukemia since age fourteen. But no one imagined anything could be the matter with tall, burly Salman before his health declined when Rusty was in kindergarten. At first, he had nosebleeds, muscle spasms and fatigue, but later, the grim diagnosis of relapsed leukemia at age thirty-three. Kareem persuaded us to move into his house, so he and Jasmine could look after us. Then all of us cared for Salman until his last hour.

Despite his dad’s illness, Rusty thrived in the company of Alex and Ava. Indeed, our three kids grew up together until post-secondary school took them to different parts of the world.

The first to go was Alex, for IT at Penn State in Philadelphia, followed by Rusty to study electrical engineering at Toronto’s Ryerson Polytechnic. A year later, little Ava also left to pursue law at the UK’s University of West London. 

Soul searching in our empty nest, I wanted to properly mourn Salman’s departure. With Jasmine’s support, I did gain a better acceptance of our loss but only found peace much later – in Toronto of all places.

A couple of years before I came here, Jasmine and Kareem retired, sold their pharmacy chain, and went to Philadelphia to be with Alex and his wife, Joanna, a pediatrician from upstate New York. Now a lawyer, Ava was building her own corporate success in Leeds’s entrepreneurial hub.

When they moved to the US, I looked after Kareem’s acreage, Jasmine’s greenhouse, and Bibi, our huge tabby who meowed insatiably for anchovies. 

Our parents wanted me to join their pastoral life, but Rusty also invited me to visit Toronto. Not wanting to leave Bibi behind, I waited for a good family to adopt him. But grand old Bibi had other ideas. One morning, he was at rest after a ripe, long life.

With Bibi buried, I found two families to live on our estate and to look after the greenhouse, now fragrant with heirloom tomatoes, miniature orchids, and juicy figs. Well-trained by Jasmine to distribute her crops, I sent them to happy farmers before texting Rusty I’d soon make my way to Toronto.

Now that you know about my life in Tehrān, I’ll continue with Toronto. On arrival, I was transported to Leaside where Rusty had designed and built his home just before marrying Dara. The house wasn’t large by any standard, but the newlyweds were ecstatic with their solar-paneled urban lodge, where the front yard needed no maintenance, but where the backyard had majestic mature trees and the lushest grass underfoot.

Rusty’s an aeronautical engineer and Dara’s a junior high guidance counsellor. They usually come home between 5 and 6 PM when we’ll cook together. In the evening, Dara and Rusty may have work-related activities; we also tend to personal hobbies, TV-watching, gardening, and homemaking. 

Our midtown oasis is where I’ve let my hair down. Interestingly, Toronto’s like Tehrān, but without the constant hazy smog and ear-piercing noises. Now I can sit under our trees for hours in perfect serenity. Leaside’s nights are also very still as if traffic and people are all miles away.

Rusty and Dara are delighted I’m enjoying retirement; we even watch sitcoms and foreign films together. They make sure I can prepare or order my favorite foods; I certainly indulge myself in public libraries, museums, and shopping malls whenever I please.

Finding peace also means maturing into myself. I’ve chosen Toronto where Rusty and Dara just want me to be happy. When I told them a greenhouse like Jasmine’s could be a nice environmental pastime, Rusty showed models that might appeal to me. Interested in seeds, seedlings, and saplings, Dara’s also thrilled, but says, “It’s your greenhouse to do what you like. I’ll just help.”

As sunrise gently realigns my thoughts, just remembering some of my best years with Salman is deeply comforting. Decades ago, I would’ve grieved, “Salman, where are you?”, but now, I’d say tenderly, “I know where you are, Salman. You’re always with me.”

I stroll through sunny, kempt parks, venture leafy, misty ravines, and then climb winding, well-trodden trails that take me home. These nooks and crannies are spiritual: firmly on earth, I’m linked to a divine heaven and the creator. Reflecting on sixty-two years as a daughter, sister, wife, mother, aunt, teacher, pharmacy assistant, gardener, traveler, and mother-in-law, I feel boundless gratitude for a wonderful life even if I came to appreciate the riches only in the last while.

Rusty and Dara suggest driving to Philadelphia this summer. It’s a novel idea that’s already excited Kareem and Jasmine. But regardless of this trip, all of us know we’re in a good space built on love, peace, health, joy, and remembrance — discovered in each one’s own time. Tranquility in Toronto connects me to a future larger than the sum of my years. I can wholly give thanks to life’s mercy and generosity, and cherish inner peace for the rest of my days.