Abandonment

As we prepare to wind up our life in New Jersey, the reality of saying goodbye is beginning to weigh heavily on my heart. Over the past few days, we've had visits from a few dear friends and family members, each one a poignant reminder of the life we are leaving behind. Yesterday, my nephew and sister-in-law came over, and together we visited Sana’s resting place. It was a bittersweet visit, filled with memories of our beloved Sanu, each one more vivid than the last. We talked about her, laughed over stories that still bring a smile, and felt the undeniable presence of her spirit with us. But as we drove back, the weight of what we are about to do settled in—leaving New Jersey feels like more than just moving away. It feels like I’m abandoning Sana. There’s a pang of guilt that stabs at me, a feeling that by leaving, I’m somehow leaving her behind, alone. Who will visit her grave once we’re gone? Who will bring flowers, sit with her, and keep her company? These thoughts haunt me, and the idea of leaving her here without us is almost unbearable. New Jersey has been more than just a place we lived; it’s where Sana’s final chapter unfolded, and in a way, it feels like her spirit is tied to this place. Packing up, saying goodbye to familiar spaces, feels like erasing the traces of her existence here, like closing a door that I’m not ready to shut. Yet, I know we have to move on, to carry her memory with us as we settle into our new life in Chicago. This transition is painful, filled with the complexities of grief and the struggle to hold on while letting go. But as difficult as it is, I remind myself that Sana is not bound to a single place. She’s with us, in our hearts and in every memory we cherish. And though we may leave New Jersey, we will carry her with us, creating a new space in our lives where her presence will continue to be felt. In our new home, we will dedicate a space to her, a room where her favorite things will surround us, where her memory will be honored every day. We’ll paint the walls her favorite color, lilac, and fill the room with her photos, her artwork, and all the little things that remind us of her. This will be her space, a sanctuary where we can feel close to her, no matter where we are. As we say goodbye to New Jersey, it’s not truly a farewell to Sana. It’s a promise to keep her spirit alive in our new home, to ensure that she’s always with us, no matter the distance. The guilt I feel is a testament to how deeply she’s ingrained in our lives, but I also know that she would want us to move forward, to find peace, and to continue living with her love guiding us. And so, we’ll carry her with us, not just in our hearts, but in the very fabric of our new life, wherever that may be.