This week has been devastating. We lost two beautiful souls. And our hearts are heavy.
We lost Farah Merchant – a 47 year old colleague, a friend, a mother, a woman of deep faith and quiet brilliance.
Farah and I worked together years ago on a national training and development team in 2017. Some days our work stretched late into the night. I came to rely on her technical brilliance, her calm problem-solving, her way of making things better without needing attention for it.
Over time, we became friends. Endless cappuccinos at her home. Thai food we both loved. Long conversations about hopes, fears, dreams, life. I witnessed how her faith grounded her. Her love guided her.
Just one week before she passed, we spoke for a long time. She was happy. At peace. I once asked her what her superpower was. She didn’t hesitate.
“Being a good mom.” Her son Liam, just 12 years old, was her world. I can’t even imagine what he is going through right now. She was his world,
We promised to get together in January. She said she had so much to share with me As we ended our last conversation, she said to me:
“I am happy, Muni aunty. 2026 is going to be my year.”
Farah died in a tragic skiing accident in Banff. Her funeral is next week. The shock of it still feels unreal.
And we also lost Alkarim Lila, a 61 year old with the spirit of of someone much younger. Lila – as he was known – had that unforgettable, killer smile. A presence you felt immediately.
I saw him often in Jamatkhana, where he served as a parking volunteer. A role many might overlook — but those who know, understand its sacredness. Safety. Care. Welcome.
Lila, and his fellow volunteers didn’t just manage traffic. They created belonging. They noticed people. They made you feel seen before you even stepped inside.
Lila was larger than life. Warm. Joyful. Kind. His passing was sudden and unexpected. He slipped into a coma and could not return. His funeral is also next week.
Two lives. Two losses. One grieving community. And in the midst of this heartbreak, these are the lessons that are landing softly for me:
•? ?Life is unbearably fragile, and breathtakingly precious.
•? ?Legacy is not built in grand gestures, but in presence, service, and love.
•? ?Faith doesn’t spare us from loss, but it holds us when loss arrives.
•? ?The roles we think are “small” often leave the deepest imprint.
•? ?What endures is how we made people feel.
Farah’s love as a mother.
Lila’s warmth as a servant of the community.
Neither sought the spotlight. Both changed lives.
Our community is devastated. And also deeply grateful – for having known them, loved them, and been shaped by them.
May we honour Farah by loving fiercely, living faithfully, and never postponing joy. May we honour Lila by welcoming generously, serving quietly, and smiling often.
May their souls rest in eternal peace.
And may we carry forward the light they so freely gave.
