Features Editor Govhar Dadashova delves into her experiences of growing up. Her story weaves together memories with her Grandpa, the power of friendships and the complexities of love.
My Mum was recently clearing out a few storage boxes and came across a pile of photographs from the 90s and 2000s. From the first photos my parents took together, whilst studying at college in the US, to the photos of annual summer vacations in Azerbaijan, sat at dinner tables with our extended family, it genuinely felt like I had time-travelled. The photographs elicited the same sensation as wearing an old jumper which was cozy and warm, but which feels like it came from a different era of your life.
All at once, both connected and disconnected to who you are in this moment, right now. It seemed magical to me that days, weeks, months and years, could be condensed into a pile of physical mementos. In a way, bringing the past closer, making intangible reminiscences feel more alive and accessible.
Like any good story, it reminds us that once upon a time, things were utterly different in our lives. There were people, challenges and opportunities, that have played their role, faded into the background, or maybe, simply walked away. The only constant in our lives is change, even if we sometimes (or perhaps too often) resist its presence.
Change is scary, because it often means letting go of the things that we valued and believed would be in our lives for the long haul. Change is nerve-wracking, because it demands us to push ourselves out of our comfort zone and try new things. Change is terrifying, because it opens us up to the risk of failure by forcing us to take gambles. But change is also beautiful in the most earth-shaking of ways.
We might have to uproot parts of our lives, but those new environments and circumstances can transform our daily routine and our goals in unimaginable ways.
Change makes us realise that what is ahead is better than what has gone. It is experiencing the combinations of these highs and lows that shapes us into who we are. Even when the lows make us feel alone or afraid, there is something beautiful in knowing, or eventually discovering, that you are innately powerful and possess the ability to survive even your hardest days.
If you have not yet realised, I am at heart an optimist. I will always do my best to see the cup half-full, not because I think the world is all sunshine and rainbows, although that would be a brilliant place to inhabit. I am an optimist simply because that is the only way for me to survive in a world that can be, as Taylor Swift once allegedly wrote about Jake Gyllenhaal, ‘so casually cruel in the name of being honest’.
As much as I respect other people for choosing to see the cup as half-empty or being a ‘realist’ (which, again, is not mutually exclusive from optimism), I have always felt things far too deeply to adopt such an approach. To me, on the most basic level, optimism means seeing the world for what it is, but still believing that positive outcomes can occur. Maybe not now, maybe not in five years, but that eventually, things will change for the better.
Unfortunately, no amount of optimism can prepare you for the tidal waves of grief that wash over your heart without any warning. Feeling the depth of my emotions can be fundamentally cathartic, but it can also be draining at times. This was the case for me, when I began to flick through the pile of photos, because I saw my grandfather, Abdul, who recently passed away in August.
One photo in particular felt like a lightning bolt through me; making me pause and reminisce on a time when growing up seemed like a distant, far-away prospect.
I am just a few years old in the photo, with my paternal grandparents on a beach, probably just a couple of miles outside of Baku. My grandfather is holding me, grinning at me from ear-to-ear with a look that I can only describe as pure love. My grandmother stands next to us, wearing a pair of sunglasses, looking carefree and laughing with her head thrown back. The cerulean blue waves, the way all of our hair is clearly ruffled from the sea breeze and the peaceful air to the photo, makes it feel like something of a precious, sparkling gem.
I was too young to remember this photo being taken, or even remember this particular day out, but I will never forget the unmatched feeling of coziness and comfort I felt when visiting my maternal and paternal grandparents’ houses. The smell of traditional Azeri food wafting through their kitchens, as they prepared my favourite dishes, knowing that comfort food after a long-haul flight from London was exactly what I craved.
Endless cups of tea, stories shared over cake and sweets and the feeling that I was in my own little world away from everyday life in England.
Seeing the photo of my grandfather, Abdul, felt bittersweet. As the eldest granddaughter, and his only grandchild for a decade, he and I always shared a special bond. He had two sons, which meant that when I was born, he got to experience what it was like to have a daughter. It is difficult to describe the entirety of what a person meant to you, but a few traits or habits always stick out.
For example, he would go on long walks everyday when he retired, because he couldn’t bear to just sit around at home for hours on end. He would much prefer to walk around his local neighbourhood and pop into the shops. He would greet everyone who worked there, because he adored talking to people and hearing about their lives. When I visited him, come summer or winter, I would join him on those walks. It is safe to say that kindness emanated from my grandpa.
Even when his memory started to fade, as the names of people and places began to slip from his mind, he never forgot me or those walks we took with each other. Like the pile of old photos, they were tucked away in a special box in his mind, just waiting for him to reach out and look at them.
Nothing is perfect, though. I might not have spent much of the year around my grandfather or any of my grandparents, but their love crossed and continues to cross oceans. Love is not always seeing the special people in your life everyday or talking about everything. Most of the time, love is expressed in the simple moments, small gestures, and tiny acts of kindness that meld themselves into something much bigger.
That is why, the last time I saw my grandfather, I went back in for an extra hug. It might not have seemed like much in the grand-scale of things, but to me, it said everything and more. Looking back now, that hug is one of the best decisions I have ever made, and the last hug I ever had with my grandpa.
When I studied abroad in Washington D.C. last semester, my two incredible roommates, Mariana and Bella, taught me a powerful lesson that has stuck with me ever since: that when you love someone or something, you should never regret it, because loving is the easiest and most natural thing to do in the world. It can be easy to close ourselves off to love in all of its forms. After all, opening yourself up to love means allowing heartbreak, embarrassment and vulnerability to be options.
However, the truth is that love is infinite – even if I still sometimes struggle to remember that. And if someone is comfortable with hurting you, leaving you or simply ignoring your feelings, then they were never truly the right person. Whoever wants to stay, will choose to stay. Why settle for love that feels insecure and afraid when you can experience love that is confident and calm?
The bare minimum might seem attractive when you are standing alone and in the dark, but it will never bring you the peace or stability that you crave. We love to romanticise potential, but actions speak louder than words, every single time.
One of the purest forms of love comes not only from my grandparents, but my female friendships. Whether it is in a wine bar in Copenhagen or standing on the streets outside of a club in Washington D.C., that feeling of being with my girls travels time and space. It is electric, all-encompassing and in so many ways, life-giving. Nobody inspires me more than my best friends, and I would not be the woman I am without them.
The endless debriefs, motivational speeches and group chats, might seem superficial to others, but to me, they are everything. We always undervalue the power of women coming together, but in my eyes, it produces nothing short of fireworks.
My first and forever female friendship is with my Mum, who sets the bar high for every type of relationship in my life. She never set limits on my potential, encouraged me to speak loudly and boldly and whenever the world pushed me down, gave me the courage to get back up again. The positive relationships I share with my best friends is a direct result of the lessons my Mum taught me.
But the most fulfilling relationship in my life is the one I have with myself. It is the safe space that I return to when the world is too Gyllenhaal-coded; the best friend who motivates me during late nights in the library, when I am exhausted on the commute home and when I feel like the world has turned upside down. When I am dancing my heart out, when my eyes are full of tears or when I simply feel overwhelmed, I return back to myself – again and again.
I know that love exists, not only because of my wonderful grandparents, lovely best friends and incredible Mum, but because I know myself and I am full of it. And maybe growing up is really the winding path of navigating the highs and lows, all the while realising that everything you ever needed can be found within yourself.
All you have to do is be brave enough to listen to your gut and know when it is time to start a new chapter.
