Tributes - Jyoti Naidu Mathew

Aug 6 1952 – May 28^th (29^th in India) 2001

A Tribute to Courage and Friendships

by Letha Saldanha

When Breast Cancer strikes close to home, it is merciless and indiscriminate. In October 1998, my best friend and soul mate of 32 years, Jyoti Naidu Mathew underwent a rushed mastectomy in Bangalore and plunged head on into what turned out to be an uphill battle against the spread of the cancer. On Memorial Day, May 28^th 2001, she passed away. For over two years, those of us who hold her dear to us watched helplessly, feeling inadequate and humbled, as she faced battle after battle, going through grueling chemotherapy and radiation with dignity, strength and fortitude. Between battles, she did her best to give all of us a semblance of normalcy.

I first met Jyoti Naidu in the summer of 1969 when we were both young impressionable teenagers embarking on our college careers in Bangalore, India. We were full of grit and determination along with the all the trimming of youth that believed that the world was our oyster and we would determine what pearls it produced for us. For 32 years, we shared a friendship that never faltered, even when oceans and continents separated us. Her family became my family too, and her siblings fondly dubbed me the ‘family extension’. With the passage of time, we both married and had children of our own, and as age and experiences mellowed us we continued to share a deep friendship and affection that rejoiced in our meetings back in India whenever I visited.

In the days following her mastectomy, after the tears had dried up and I had planted an eternal bed of daffodils, I was looking into resources for life after mastectomy and living with breast cancer. As she ploughed through her first course of intensive chemotherapy, positive thoughts turned to the physical aspects of post mastectomy life, including reconstructive surgery and post mastectomy wear. This opened a door for me to the HERS Foundation and ‘Bras for Body & Soul’ here in Fremont, California--two resources that have been a tremendous source of physical and emotional support for me and for Jyoti through her uphill battle with breast cancer. Tricia and Cheryl of the HERS Foundation were also my local pillars, often helping me to put my emotions in perspective as I watched a dear friend slip away rapidly. In her characteristic, spiritual way, Tricia reached out to Jo in many ways and I saw Jyoti brim with emotions she rarely indulged in, in the last few years, when she read a note that Tricia sent her when I last visited her the summer of 2000.

On October 7th, 2000 when the HERS Foundation had its first annual walk at Coyote Hills in Fremont, California, USA, I walked in Jyoti’s honor. This year, 2001, and in the years to come, I walk in Jyoti’s memory. She will continue to be there in spirit beside me, just like all those long walks we took in Bangalore, for years through our college days, exchanging warm thoughts and passionate ideologies of youth. [at right: Jyoti with her family]

Of recent, we took walks whenever I went back to India to visit, culminating in a last walk I took with her in Bangalore on India’s Independence Day, August 15th 1999. By this time cancer had already taken a physical and emotional toll on her and we shared mellow and reflective thoughts. By the time of my last visit with her in the summer of 2000, she was physically too weak to take our traditional walk but her spirits were undeterred.

In October 2001, I returned to Bangalore, India for the first time after Jyoti’s mortal departure. At home, she leaves behind her spouse of 23 years, Naveen Mathew and two wonderful children Siddarth, 16 and Ranu, 13. Next door are her parents Radha and Venugopal Naidu and close by is her brother Arun. Two other siblings, Shoba and Prakash make up the immediate family that continue to hold me in their hearts and homes as the family extension that Jo had made me. Jyoti would expect that we all pick up the pieces and continue with life, following the tough example she had set for us through her illness. Enveloping the inevitable cracks of a grieving family is Jyoti’s spirit that lives on so comfortably and strongly in their homes, orchestrating affectionately as she always loved to do.

I miss her e-mails, her physical presence, her smile and her characteristic laugh that had grown more and more infrequent the last few months, even over the phone. But now that she is gone, she creates a pleasant illusion of being very much here with us, loving, sharing, and above all smiling and laughing. We must too.

[At left, Jyoti is joined by her sister Shoba (L) and Letha (R)]

Till our paths cross again dear friend.