Carrying Love Beyond Loss

Last night, I dreamt of Sana. And for the first time in a long time, Idris did too. He rarely dreams of her, but this time, she came to him in a way that felt both heartbreaking and beautiful. In his dream, they were at the zoo together. She knew she had only a few days left. She didn’t say much—just hugged him tightly, as if she were trying to make that moment last forever. When he told me about it, I felt that familiar ache in my chest, the one that never really goes away. We are both struggling to get through this time, and no matter how much we try to distract ourselves, grief remains an unshakable presence in our lives. I’ve been keeping busy—almost obsessively so. I already have two part-time jobs, but I still find myself applying for more, as if staying occupied will somehow keep the pain at bay. The truth is, I don’t have the energy for this constant push, but I also don’t know how else to cope. It feels like I’ve moved past the stage of acceptance—I know Sana is gone—but I haven’t yet figured out how to process it. I am on enough medication to numb me, but even that has its limits. There’s this common belief that time heals all wounds. But I have come to realize that’s not true—not for this kind of loss. Time doesn’t erase the pain; it just teaches you how to carry it. The next time you or someone you love is grieving, don’t tell them that time will heal them. Instead, just acknowledge their pain. Tell them, I know this will stay with you forever, and I’m here. That’s all. No empty reassurances, no expectations that they will "move on." Lately, I’ve found myself withdrawing from people. I hesitate to reach out, not because I don’t want to talk, but because I fear that my grief is too heavy for others to bear. I’ve encountered those who avoid the topic of Sana altogether, as if acknowledging our loss is too painful for them. I don’t blame them. I understand. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Sana used to say that she felt like there was a weight bearing down on her heart, a pressure that never eased no matter what she did. Now, I understand exactly what she meant. This grief is something only Idris and I can truly carry. And so, we lean on each other, cry together, and grieve in our own way.