Family traditions

Last night, we decided to go out for dinner, a tradition we cherished when Sana was alive. Family dinners on Friday or Saturday nights were our way of reconnecting after a busy week. This time, we wanted to celebrate Maahir’s new job, so we chose a tapas place, knowing how much Sana loved tapas and sangria. Sana's absence was palpable, but this gathering allowed us to share our grief and fond memories of her. Maahir, in particular, misses her deeply and often feels guilty about having fun without her. As we reminisced, each of us shared a memory of Sana, and we all teared up. I imagined how she would have dressed up, rolling her eyes at my comments. In a way, she was at the restaurant with us. This act of imagining her presence and believing she was there provided a sense of healing. Maahir copes by texting her phone, sharing everything he wishes he could talk to her about. We also stopped at a photo booth to take pictures, something that always made Sana happy. After dinner, we decided to visit a nearby street fair. There was music playing, and it reminded us of how much Sana loved such lively events. She always longed to do these things, to immerse herself in the energy and joy of life. We ended the night with sweet nothings—ice cream overloaded with chocolate and calories, something Sana craved and cherished. Amidst the food, wine, and reminiscing, last night felt like a soothing balm on our collective wound. For the first time, it seemed like a bit of healing had begun. The memories we shared, the laughter, and the tears all combined to create a moment of connection that brought us closer to Sana and to each other. Through these simple acts, we found a way to keep her spirit alive and felt her presence in our lives, reminding us that healing comes in small, tender moments shared with loved ones.