The Empty Chair- it’s 8 months

The Empty Chair: Its 8 months Today marks eight months since Sana left us, and it also happens to be my 60th birthday. A milestone I never thought I’d approach with such a heavy heart. Sana was always the first to wish me on my birthday, her voice filled with excitement and love. This year, her absence feels louder than ever. This week has been a whirlwind of celebration, a contrast of emotions interwoven with moments of joy and deep longing. We hosted an engagement party for Maahir and Serena—a beautiful evening full of laughter, love, and togetherness. Three of my closest friends flew in to be with us, their presence a gift in itself. Yet amid the celebration, there was an undercurrent of pain. Idris delivered a heartfelt speech for the couple, reflecting our love and pride for them while also honoring Sana. His words captured what we all felt: the joy of witnessing this milestone in Maahir and Serena’s lives and the sorrow of missing Sana’s physical presence. One of Serena’s friends, whose ability to read auras I mentioned in an earlier blog, shared something profound with me. She said she could feel Sana in the room, quietly sitting at the back, watching her "BB" (Baby Brother) with so much happiness for him. That image, though fleeting, brought me comfort—a balm for the ache in my heart. But as the weekend ended and our friends departed, the silence returned. The stillness of the house brought back the weight of grief. It’s a feeling that parents like us know all too well—a constant balancing act between moments of light and the shadows of loss. And I’ve come to accept that it’s okay to feel this way. Reflecting on the last few days, I’ve realized the immense power of friends and family. They truly are the best support system, just as Sana always believed. Their presence, their laughter, and their unconditional love carried us through the engagement celebration and lifted our spirits, even if just for a while. Social connections, I’ve found, are one of the most potent tools for navigating grief. This week, those connections gave us moments of joy and healing, even amidst the sadness. Today, we’ll celebrate my birthday as a family. Like always, there will be an empty chair at the table. It’s a quiet acknowledgment of Sana’s enduring presence in our lives. I know she’ll be with us, just as she always is, in the laughter, the love, and the memories we carry forward. This year, more than ever, I’m reminded of the importance of gratitude—for the people who stand by us, for the moments of joy that still find their way through, and for the enduring bond with a daughter whose light continues to guide us. The empty chair may remind us of what we’ve lost, but it also symbolizes the love that remains, unbroken and eternal.