Some people move through the world like a held breath — quiet, careful, entirely present. Parisa was one of them. Her sudden and unexpected passing on September 5, 2026, has left a stillness none of us were prepared for, and a grief as vast as the love she gave so freely.
Parisa arrived already fluent in wonder. Before she could speak in full sentences, she spoke in rhyme. Before she could walk steadily, she hopped through the world as though gravity were only a suggestion. As a small child she hummed melodies to no one in particular and filled page after page with drawings of birds, insects, and creatures only she seemed to notice — the first signs of a mind that would spend a lifetime finding beauty in the overlooked. She grew into a gentle, spiritual soul, an introvert who carried a rare and luminous calm through her own hardest days, while remaining almost unbearably tender toward the suffering of others.
It was perhaps inevitable that her sharp, searching mind and love of people would lead her to medicine — and just as inevitable that her artist's heart would refuse to be left behind. In medical school, she became a masterful illustrator of histology slides, painting the strange architecture of insects and parasites, made magical under her pen. That same fusion of precision and compassion carried her into advocacy for children fighting cancer, and into a quiet, unshowy philanthropy that touched more lives than most of us will ever know about. After completing her specialty training at McMaster University, she built a distinguished career as a radiologist.
But if you wanted to find the truest version of Parisa, you wouldn't look for her in the "reading rooms." You'd find her in the garden, knees in the soil beside her father, hands moving in the same patient rhythm as his. You'd find her deep in conversation with her brother, the two of them turning some question of literature or philosophy over and over like a stone worn smooth. You'd find her beside her mother at the table each winter and spring, crafting Christmas and Nowruz decorations with the same gentle hands that once sketched flowers into scientific precision.
Her leaving has cut short so much — so many conversations not yet finished, so much love still gathering. We will miss her in the smallest, most ordinary moments: in every rustling leaf, every quiet room, every unfinished sketch. Her absence is enormous precisely because her presence, though quiet, was everywhere.
Parisa is survived by her devastated mother, father, brother, and sister-in-law, along with their extended families, and by a wide circle of colleagues, patients, and friends whose lives she reshaped simply by being in them."
In lieu of flowers, our family asks that you consider a donation in Parisa's memory — to organizations supporting children in war zones, to Firefighters Canada, to groups working to restore forests and soil, to efforts to clear ocean pollution, or to any charity close to your heart. She would have wanted her memory to keep giving back to the earth she loved so completely.