A Mother’s Embrace: Finding Peace Amid Grief

A Mother’s Embrace: Finding Peace Amid Grief Being with my mother always brings me a sense of peace, a quiet haven amidst the turbulence of life. At 92, she has the sweetest, gentlest demeanor. Her joy at seeing me upon my arrival in India was heartwarming. Yet, she remains content in her small world, oblivious to the storm of grief that surrounds me. During my visit, I showed her a photo from a recent family photoshoot. She complimented Serena, her sharp eyes still noticing beauty and detail. But then she asked, “Where is Sana?” Her question caught me off guard. Throughout the day, she repeated it, each time with the same sincerity. I dismounted her curiosity with the same response: “She’s working.” My mother nodded, satisfied, and said, “Yes, she’s a teacher.” It was strange and poignant. My mother often forgets names and faces, yet somehow, she remembered Sana. It felt as if, on some intuitive level, she knew. Later, my next-door neighbor, someone I grew up with, came over to see me. She asked gently, “How are you and Idris doing?” My response was simple yet raw: “We’re numb, and we’re alive.” Grief changes you in ways you can’t anticipate. For me, it has dulled my emotions, left me feeling hollow. Watching Sana struggle and eventually lose her battle has stripped me of my fears. The things that once seemed overwhelming now feel inconsequential. Idris and I are coping in our own ways, each of us navigating the same grief but with different approaches. He has immersed himself in activity—spending time with family, meeting friends, staying busy. It’s his way of processing, of keeping his mind engaged. For me, it’s the opposite. I don’t want to meet anyone outside of my closest circle—just family and a few dear friends. I lack the courage or the energy to engage in conversations that can’t possibly make me feel better. Initially, before coming to India, I had considered organizing a prayer meeting for Sana. It would have been a chance to gather everyone who reached out and prayed for her. But the thought of it was daunting. For someone who has always been sociable, the idea of facing a room full of people was overwhelming. Grief teaches us that there’s no “right” way to cope. Even as parents, Idris and I are walking this path differently. And that’s okay. What we share is the understanding that this loss is something we will never truly heal from. Instead, we will learn to live with it, to embrace life as it comes, carrying Sana’s memory with us every step of the way. Amidst the grief, I feel a profound sense of gratitude for the love and support we have received over these months. It has been a beacon of light in our darkest hours. While the pain remains, so does the love—a reminder of the kindness and compassion that still exists in the world, even when everything feels lost.