Gratitude

I find myself in a space where it feels like I’ll remain forever—a liminal place between healing and existing. Starting my new part-time teaching job has given me some motivation, something to focus on. For a while, I was searching for full-time positions, wanting to stay occupied all the time and have access to health benefits. I even interviewed for a few, but I haven't heard back from any of them. Strangely, I feel a sense of relief. I’m not sure I have the energy to take on a full-time role right now, to go through all the motions it requires. At this point in my life, I want to do something that brings me happiness or fulfillment. Teaching does that for me. When I’m in the classroom, I can almost feel Sana watching from the back, rooting for me as she always did. I think I relate so closely to my students because many of them are around Sana’s age. Being with them feels like a way of honoring her, a small piece of her still present in my daily life. I’m also incredibly grateful that I have the privilege to choose part-time work instead of being forced into full-time for financial reasons. I know not everyone has that choice, and it’s something I don’t take for granted. If Sana were here, she would have been my biggest supporter. She understood my passion for teaching. Funny enough, on my first day of class, I reused a presentation from last year that included a slide introducing my family, with a picture of Sana. I spoke about her in the present tense, as though she were still with us, without revealing the tragedy to my students. It felt like a sign that she will always be present, in some form. Grief takes a toll on every aspect of life, including relationships, especially the one with your spouse. Each person navigates grief in their own way, and that can lead to tension and a sense of drifting apart. It's natural, but it’s also important to find ways to heal yourself, so you can hold on to and salvage those relationships. In many ways, getting this part-time job feels like a form of divine intervention. It gives me the time and space I need to heal, without the overwhelming pressure of full-time work. As much as I believe that things happen for a reason, I will never understand the reasoning behind Sana’s passing. That will always be a question I carry with me. But for anyone out there who is struggling with grief, my advice is simple: don’t immerse yourself in work just to escape if you have the choice. This kind of pain is beyond anything you can imagine, and it takes time to put the pieces of your life back together. Take that time, however long it may be. Healing isn’t linear, but it’s necessary. And sometimes, the most important work we can do is on ourselves.