Tell or not tell??

Amid our family’s grief, one of the most delicate aspects has been the conversations with my mom. She doesn't know about Sana's passing. We made the difficult decision not to tell her, knowing it would be an overwhelming shock. So, every time we talk, she asks about Sana, and it feels like déjà vu. Each inquiry about Sana is a poignant reminder of what we've lost. My mom's questions, laced with genuine curiosity and affection, serve as a bittersweet echo of the life that used to be. “How is Sana doing?” she asks, and I find myself in the familiar position of reassuring her, saying that Sana is okay. It’s a moment filled with heavy emotions, where the truth hangs silently between us, and I struggle to maintain a facade of normalcy. This repeated exchange feels surreal as if I’m caught in a loop, reliving the same conversation over and over again. I can almost hear the echo of my own words, offering reassurances that seem to hang in the air, devoid of their true meaning. Each time I respond, I feel the weight of the unspoken truth pressing down on my heart. It’s a complex dance of love and protection, navigating the delicate balance between my mother’s innocence and my own grief. While I want to shield her from the pain, it also deepens my own sorrow, knowing that every time we talk, I am living in the space between reality and memory. In this way, those moments become a form of déjà vu, blending the past