Three years ago, on Christmas Day, my husband Naren passed away unexpectedly. Before his passing, Christmas held little significance for us.
Christmas was only special to Naren and me because of the kids. We decorated our home like others do and bought presents for the kids, but not for each other.
Diwali, the Festival of Lights, was our special day. We hosted festive parties, bringing the nostalgia of India into our otherwise American lives. We invited our Indian and non-Indian friends, explaining the significance of Diwali to our guests and our kids. Our two girls, who learned Indian dancing, performed at our Diwali parties.
We hoped it would instill Indian-ness in them—dancing to Indian songs, with Indian classical movements, in traditional attires, on the most celebrated day in India.
Now, December 25th has taken on new significance. Many friends reach out on this day, remembering Naren with fondness. It’s hard not to be reflective as I write this on Christmas Day, three years later.
I remind myself that at every stage of life it has been difficult to give up. And so was being married for 47 years with Naren, to now living without him. Leaving home to go to Roorkee—the engineering college in India—was sad. I then left India for America with a sinking heart, but America brought new opportunities. As a graduate student in America, with no friends, I was lonely. It was then I reconnected with Naren in the US. And did I fall for him.
“I fell for her when we first met,” Naren used to tell friends. That was different from my story, but an endearing one.
Leaving every stage had brought sadness but also sprang new life, new opportunities, and most importantly, a wave of enthusiasm.
Naren and I embraced life with an adventurous spirit. But I am also figuring out how to navigate with a single oar. Some old mutual friends are now closer to me in more meaningful ways. I can now figure out who I am imposing on and when it’s right to do so.
Another thing I appreciated about Naren was not looking back. Even in the most joyful moments, rough patches had to be overcome. When we decided to get married, barely a year after I came to the US, a difficult decision was whether to get married in the US or India. He opted to get married in the US, even against his parent’s wishes.
Now I refuse to look back on life and death, which are outside our control. We lived a life of active risk-taking duos.
He had no qualms about my starting a company when he had just done that himself a few years earlier — still in its infancy. Together we took financial and physical risks. Swimming in the ocean with very little experience, we tremendously enjoyed snorkeling when we first witnessed the rich underwater marine life, invisible when looking at the surface above. We both experienced close calls due to ocean currents.
We went skiing and tried to navigate steeper slopes than we could handle. Earlier, I had proclaimed I could never ski because of a childhood bout with mild polio—leaving one leg a bit stunned. But we skied for 47 years together and initiated our daughters, who are now excellent at the sport. The younger one, Serena, constantly challenges herself in the backcountry, climbing up and down through unplowed snow. She skied Mt. Shasta, impromptu, one weekend.
Did daring parents create daring daughters? One would never know. But the ride together was joyful. No regrets.
Then there was bridge, where we could not play together nor live without it. My last blog is about how Bridge Learning has its joy.
Three years back on December 25th, thankfully the kids were adults, and a grandchild was on the way. As usual, life was flowing our way, and there is no reason to think that it would not continue.
We still chuckle at Dad. Just two days back, my daughter Anneka retrieved a train from Naren’s closet, where he had hidden it away from me. He believed I would ruin his favorite train! Now his two-year-old grandson has it around his first Christmas tree. At two, the train is what lights him up!
I can finally let it go the way I want to while marching forward still working on my first book and playing a more intensely focused bridge — which takes me out of this world, like meditation. Suddenly, now I realize a canoe can be better navigated with a single oar when the waters are calmer.
In this article
Julia Fleenor
❤️❤️
Wayne Snyder
Thank for sharing your thoughts and feelings; the post was one of your most intimate and expressive.
Ram Nagpal
I went through a similar situation. My wife Dr. Shaku Nagpal passed away 9 months ago. We were married for 56 years and were fortunate to celebrate our 55th Anniversary with friends who were also married for 55 years or longer. I miss my wife EVERYDAY. I am glad I read your article. I thank you very much.
vinitagupta
My heart felt wishes. Pl take care.
Shanker Trivedi
Lovely article. Thank you Vinita, for sharing.
Asha
Sending love ❤️❤️
Deborah Schafer
Thinking of Naren and your family 🫶🏻
Sunil Suri
Bravo Vinita. To take on a river with a single oar is indeed worthy of praise.
May the years ahead be full of joy, prosperity and fond remembrance of Naren.
Happy Christmas and Best wishes to you and your children and grandchildren.
vinitagupta
Thanks, Sunil.
Wishing you and your expanding family the very best for 2025.
R Paul Singh
So beautifully written. Thanks for sharing
Vish Mishra
Dear Vinita,
Thank you for sharing this wonderful story of your life with Naren for 47 years and 3 years without!!
With every story you write, I am sure many like me learn more about life and living from it!! May your Canoe turn into a Speedboat in 2025!!
Rita Gupta
Very nice Nita.
Merry Christmas and a happy new year
Pavan and Rita
vinitagupta
Best Wishes for 2025. Thank you.
Deepka lalwani
You touch many hearts with your blog. When I grow up 😆 I want to be bold and adventurous like you.
Rati
I love reading your blogs, Vinita; and identify with much of what you write. This one was particularly poignant, thank you for sharing so openly. Sending you hugs and hope we meet before long
vinitagupta
Thanks, Rati. Best to you and Naushad.
Sreedhar Menon
Brought me very sad memories of NAREN GUPTA passing away suddenly on CHRISTMAS DAY three years ago! While I was at REE VENTURES, I did a lot of business together with NAREN!
Roy Green
What a wonderful and fitting tribute. Keep up your good work.
Jyotsna Gupta
Dear Nita Didi,
To take on a river with a single oar is indeed very commendable…from rough waters to calm.
May the years ahead be full of happiness, health and fond memories of Naren Jijaji.
Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year to the Kids and Dear Pavo.
Hugs and Love from Jini and Family.
Subir Adhicary
Dear Vinita,
Very poignant and practical lines. You have dealt life with your innate rational qualities and your one oar canoe can negotiate turbulent waters what to talk about placid one.
You radiate strength. That is reflected in your musings which I love to read except for the card related ones. For me, it a Bridge too far.
Wish you cherish Naren’s memory and live life full with your lovely daughters and grand children. God be with you
Publish your book. Let it be a gift to your loved ones and posterity.
Take care.
Yvonne Kantar
Vinita, I found your blog particularly poignant. Living day by day not being worried about a future situation you can’t change, helps to be able to control rowing upstream with one oar. Happy new year to you and the girls!