A Sunday Wrapped in Memories

A Sunday Wrapped in Memories Today felt like one of those typical Sundays when Sana was around—lazy, indulgent, and full of good food and laughter. Sundays often meant heading out for a nice brunch, picking a spot we all loved, and stuffing ourselves with delicious food. Last night, Serena and Maahir stayed over, and I can’t begin to describe how much joy it brought me to have them here. This morning, they left to celebrate Thanksgiving with Serena’s family, and Idris and I decided to do something we hadn’t done in ages—we went to a local diner for brunch. Afterwards, we walked over to see the Christmas tree and the skating rink. This rink was where Sana and Serena had gone last year during Thanksgiving when we were all together in Chicago. I could almost see Sana there—skating gracefully across the ice, her face glowing with a big smile. She loved these moments, the simplicity and joy they brought. Idris and I both paused at the rink, lost in thought. Had we ever imagined that a year later, life would be so profoundly different? It’s a thought that hit us hard as we stood there, watching others skate and enjoy what was once a shared joy for our family. Next week, we’re driving to Michigan for Thanksgiving to visit a dear friend. It’s a trip we made two years ago as a whole family, and for Idris, the thought of going back to that house feels overwhelming. He’s dreading facing the memories of that time, of being together as a complete family. I understand his feelings, though in a way, I’ve already faced some of those fears. I visited Michigan in September, and while it was deeply emotional, it was also a step towards acknowledging and living with the loss. It’s funny how we all know, on some level, that life on Earth is temporary. We talk about it as a transition, but we push that reality to the back of our minds. We block out thoughts of mortality, of change, of loss. But when tragedy strikes, it shatters that illusion. Suddenly, the fragility of life is undeniable, and we find ourselves wondering how everything can change in a single moment. Sana’s absence is a constant ache, but days like today remind me of how much she loved life, how fully she embraced it. She found joy in the little things—in skating, in brunches, in family moments. Even as the pain of her absence lingers, I hold on to the memories of those joys. Life is fleeting, and its twists and turns can catch us unprepared. But perhaps the lesson in all of this is to cherish the moments we have, however small, and to let them live on in our hearts, even when life changes forever.