A Eulogy Remembering Dibo
There’s a lot of love in this room.
My name is Rob McDonald. I am Dibo’s friend and
classmate at the UAB School of Medicine. I want to thank Anup Vora and
Uncle and Auntie Sen for letting me say a few words today.
I would like to tell you about the effects that
Dibo had on our class. Universally, Dibo was loved…huge…driven…content &
happy…strong…peaceful…lively. Dibo was ours, but we also belonged to
him.
I’m going to begin my comments by telling you
something that happened on the night that Dibo passed away. I was lucky
enough to shake Dibo’s hand on the night he passed away.
Others breathed his last breaths for him.
J.T. O’Neil and about 30 others of us from Dibo’s
class were out celebrating after an exam. We’ve done this four times now
– gone to a Birmingham karaoke place to sing and be silly and carefree
after days-on-end of studying.
As J.T. was leaving at midnight, Dibo grabbed him,
and told him, “I love you, Man.” J.T. said I love you, too, man. These
were the last words exchanged between J.T. and Dibo. I can’t think of
any better exchange between two human beings.
And this wasn’t an isolated event. It was typical
Dibo as we knew him. When we had other get-togethers, Dibo started
powerful belly-to-belly hugs, and he’d say I love you. With his smile, Dibo disarmed
those around him. He broke down the walls that we put up in our everyday
lives.
In our guarded world of caution, Dibo lived his
life without regard for the unnecessary taboos like grabbing a friend
and telling them they were loved. He would tell you that he loved you,
and in a disarming choice that he made easy, you would realize
that you loved him back, and you would tell him so. So many of us walked
away from a first meeting with Dibo thinking, Wow, that guy is
genuinely special.
I would like to say some other things that our
classmates have said about Dibo.
For example, “St. Nick” Nick Patel said this:
“that there isn’t one time I can think of when we spent time together
and we both didn’t laugh.”
Another of our classmates describes Dibo as a “ray
of light cutting through the fog of medical school.”
Nimisha Patel said that “Even knowing you a little
bit, I feel that I am a better person for it.”
Rashi thanked Dibo for bringing such sunshine and
purity to us at the UASOM (University of Alabama School of Medicine).
This was Dibo’s effect on us.
Ifey describes Dibo with beautiful, poetic words,
describing him as loving, with quiet strength, loud love, powerful hugs,
and witty comebacks.
In the days since Dibo’s passing, every time I
think of him, a smile creases my face.
Cosby Stone is one of our classmates, and he wrote
an eloquent elegy on the morning that we learned of Dibo’s passing.
Cosby and Dibo were together when a terminal diagnosis was reached for
one of their patients. These are Cosby’s words:
“We saw our first terminal diagnosis together, only
barely understanding.
And on that day our hearts were heavy.
Alongside you I took my first long look at death.
I heard its message for the body, of the slow
return to dust; and yet I saw that the best part, the soul, had left and
gone away.
Did you wonder where it had gone to Dibo? Did you
inquire after it?
Did you strain your eyes to look for footprints?
Did you strain your ears to catch its whisper?
I did, and I do now.
Now we are left, staring in the direction you have
gone, Dibo, holding our bags of trinkets and tinsel and leaves and
rocks.
And for a moment, the illusion that all of these
collected things can hold us to the Earth forever is gone.”
A man named William Wordsworth said that “a good
man’s life has little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and
love.”
This was what Dibo meant to us – hundreds of
nameless acts of kindness and love – like paying for a meal, or taking a
study break, or hitting the fourth floor Foosball table, or remembering
a person’s favorite movie. Or caring so much about his sister.
Mr. and Mrs. Sen, we have thought of you every day.
Your son touched our lives in innumerable ways. You brought a perfect
infant into this world, and he became an excellent man. He made our
lives better. And moreover, even now, he makes us want to live our lives
more like he did. Dibo is a touchstone for us, for all that a good
person can be. You gave us this, through your son, and we will always be
grateful to you.
Abish Parmar – our beloved “Shek” – perhaps said it
best, “Everything that you were, I hope to become.”
In closing, Dibo’s sudden passing is very difficult
for us. He is still with us. For example, four days ago I walked into a
room filled with our classmates, and I saw Derrick and Anup and Arrtie
and Corey, and I swear my eyes also saw Dibo. I can’t believe that I
won’t run into him when I round the next corner.
Or maybe I will...
I believe that Dibo’s spirit will remain with all
of us for as long as we live. I believe that when we walk across the
stage to graduate, Dibo will be there again, with us, cracking jokes. I
believe Dibo has changed us for the better.
I believe Dibo’s spirit is here, right now, in this
room. Our love has called him here, and of course he came immediately.
He was probably waiting for us. And while his spirit is here, I’m going
to say hi. We love you, Man. And only in part will I say goodbye.
