Five months

Five Months Without Sana: A Hazy Journey Through Grief Today marks five months since we lost Sana. If I could erase this year, I would. Usually, people say time eases the pain, but for us, it feels like pieces of reality are only just starting to settle, and they feel sharp, not softer. There’s this constant fog—a dream-like haze—where moments blur together. Our lives haven’t changed much, even though we’ve made moves, literally and emotionally. We relocated to Chicago and I started teaching part-time, two small shifts over five months. Beyond that, our days remain robotic, just moving through time with little social interaction, mostly confined to the house. I’ve always believed in the power of numbers. Odd numbers held a strange weight in my mind, feeling somehow less fortunate than even ones. The irony isn’t lost on me that Sana left us on the 27th—an odd number that perhaps cements that strange belief. Whether it’s one month or five, the truth is I feel much the same. Is this normal? I think it is. There’s no magic formula for the time it takes to heal. Grief is a long, winding journey, and I’m learning that it’s okay to feel suspended, like time itself is still trying to catch up.