These are the Reasons We Walk
“How about I go up there and stand with you?” I asked while placing my hand on Tanweer’s shoulder.
“Sure”, Tanweer responded softly as he turned his soft gaze away from his wife who only moments before had shook her head at the proposition of going to the stage with him. Taking the lead, Tanweer began to weave his way through the quiet crowd, me right behind him.
It was September 10th and we were on the east lawn adjacent to Soldier Field. Us and hundreds of others were there that bright morning in downtown Chicago to pay homage to the victims, to celebrate the survivors, and to recognize the first responders. Not of the attack on the twin towers mind you. Rather we were there for CureSearch Walk for Children’s Cancer.
Upon registration at the walk, people received a bandana in one of two colors. If you came in support of a child survivor of cancer, your bandana was dark green. If you came in the memory of a child victim of cancer, the bandana was lime green. I had chosen the lime green bandana which I wore around my head.
The master of ceremonies had asked for family members of the victims to come forward. A stillness enveloped the crowd as people looked from right to left to see who was walking forward. Not unlike the awe and honor bestowed upon the family of the victims of the attacks on 9/11.
Tanweer’s oldest son Bilal was my student at Sunday school. Fifteen years old, Bilal was diagnosed earlier this year with Leukemia. Bilal had returned to his Creator within five weeks of his diagnosis, a victim . This past January, my two and half year old daughter Sereen had been diagnosed with a Stage III Wilms’ Tumor, a type of kidney cancer. After radiation and six months of chemotherapy, a survivor. I chose lime green for Bilal.
Arriving at the stage, Tanweer was handed a gold balloon. “Now a moment of silence remembering our children” said the woman at the microphone. I lifted my hands and prayed for Bilal. I prayed for God’s Mercy and Forgiveness to envelop Bilal. Patience and strength for his parents. Prayed that I never be tested and have to stand before others as the parent of a victim.
“We will now release the balloons and as they fly into the heavens …”
Tears welled up in my eyes. An army of balloons rising into the sky, beautiful, as if you could see the spirits of those kids in the heavens, arms outstretched, ready to catch the balloons. The whole time I had my hand on Tanweer’s shoulder, rubbing. Looking to my left, a man stood alone, tears streaming down his face. Our eyes met, this complete stranger. I was overcome with a desire to hug him and we did. “A Muslim hugging a non Muslim on 9/11 Anniversary” would have been the headline in the newspaper, yet the headline would have been wrong. I wasn’t “being” a Muslim. I was simply being a human.
My daughter, my dear Sereen, the cancer survivor was later called to the stage as was every survivor present. She was given a medal with the inscription “These are the Reasons We Walk”.
When she gets older I will tell her how over thirty five Muslims, naming themselves Team Bilal and Sereen, came together to walk for her and Bilal, raising almost $10,000 dollars, finishing second overall amongst all teams, and given a standing ovation by hundreds of non Muslim Americans. All of that happened on that day, the tenth anniversary of the attacks of 9/11.
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