Three months

Three months. It’s hard to believe that so much time has passed since we lost Sana, and yet, it feels like the pain is still as raw as it was on that day. If I could, I would erase 2024 from our lives entirely—every moment of heartache, every tear, every sleepless night. But time, no matter how much of it elapses, doesn’t seem to lessen the grief. We’re still grieving, still processing, still in denial, trying to navigate a world that feels so different without her in it. What’s strange, though, is how the world around us seems to be moving on, as if nothing has changed. In the beginning, the calls and messages from friends and family were frequent, filled with concern and care. Everyone was there, offering support, trying to help us through the unimaginable. But now, as the weeks have turned into months, those conversations have shifted. People talk less about the tragedy, less about Sana, and more about the future. It’s as if, in some unspoken way, the world expects us to start moving forward, to begin the process of letting go. But how do you let go of something so profound? How do you move on from losing a child, from losing a piece of your heart? It’s bizarre how, as humans, we can be so deeply immersed in grief one moment and then, seemingly, begin to return to the practicalities of life the next. But for those of us who are living with this loss, it’s not that simple. The world may be moving on, but we’re still here, holding on to every memory, every moment, because letting go feels impossible. Today marks three months since Sana left us, and while the world may be urging us to look ahead, I’m still holding on to her in every way I can. To mark this difficult milestone, I found a place that will take Sana’s old t-shirts and turn them into a quilt. It’s a small way to keep her with us as we transition to our new life in Chicago, a way to hold on to the tangible pieces of her that bring us comfort. This quilt will be more than just fabric stitched together—it will be a collection of memories, each square a reminder of the vibrant, loving person she was. It’s a way to carry her with us, to keep her close, even as we try to move forward. And perhaps, with this small act of remembrance, we can find a bit of renewed energy to face the days ahead. Grief is a journey, and it’s one that doesn’t have a clear timeline. We may never fully move on, but we can find ways to carry our loved ones with us, to keep their memory alive in everything we do. And as we step into this new chapter, Sana will be with us, not just in our hearts, but in the quilt that will wrap us in her warmth and love, reminding us that she’s still here, even as time continues to move forward.