Dear Mom and Dad (Hooyo and Aabo):

At the time of my writing this, it is the 23rd of February 2019. You both know what this means don’t you? It means we have officially been in Canada for 28 years. I’ve been thinking a lot about the both of you lately, and knew today would be the perfect day to write this. You know, the older I get, the more I think about how you must have felt coming here all those years ago, a young couple with five children in tow. Those first few months couldn’t have been easy. I’m sure you both spent sleepless nights wondering how you were going to get through it all. You had the five of us to take care of, a huge language barrier to overcome, a staggering amount of immigration paper-work to get through, and not to mention having to rip your roots out and re-plant them in a winter wonderland. You both had to leave so much behind, your family, friends, and your way of life. The amazing thing about all of this is that you never let us see the strain this was having on your lives. At 31, I know myself well enough to know that I would’ve cracked under all that pressure. Us kids just felt loved, secure, and safe knowing we had you and each other. There was never a time that I can remember us going hungry. We had everything we needed thanks to the both of you. When I lost my sight at the age of 7, you set me on a path that I am still on today. Rather than mourning my gradually decreasing sight, you found creative ways to help me experience the world around me. There was always a little money left over at the end of the month for an after school activity. You introduced me to the love of my life, music. Dad, I remember the days when we’d drive to your friend Aidid’s shop and you’d let me pick out a Somali cassette tape. You exposed me to the best Somali singers, poets, and songwriters. One of my favourite memories with you was me curled up on the floor with the little tape recorder listening to Abdulaahi Suldaan Timacade, and you listening with me. Mom, I can remember you looking for piano lessons for me when I showed an interest at the age of 8. Four years later, we found the perfect music academy, and now look at me. I am a piano instructor and entrepreneur at my own music school. I’m sure you both saw that coming didn’t you? You never stopped believing in me. You gave my siblings and I every opportunity to succeed. You had to fight so hard for us. I remember your battles against a racist, ablest special education system. I remember the countless IEP meetings where they tried filling your heads with lies. They told you that I needed to be put on meds. They told you that I needed to be sent away to disability-specific schools and that I’d never be a functioning member of society. I wish they could see me now. That same kid they thought wouldn’t amount to a damn thing now works for himself. You fought them at every turn and I’m so grateful you did. I am going to spend the rest of my life doing right by the both of you, and when the day comes that I bring a child into this world, I can only hope that I am half the parent you both were and still are. I know I have my work cut out for me.

I love you with everything I have and more.

Mubarak