Holi Without Sana: A Festival of Colors Now Faded

A message from one of Sana’s friends popped up on my phone today. “I miss Sana more than ever today. It’s Holi.” Holi—the festival of colors, laughter, and joy. A day Sana loved celebrating with all her heart. The memories came rushing in. Every year, we were invited to Vandana’s place, where the girls would run wild, drenching each other in colored water, smearing bright powders on one another’s faces until they were completely unrecognizable—just a swirl of rainbow hues and endless laughter. I can still see Sana in my mind’s eye—her beaming smile, her eyes lit up with pure joy as she embraced the chaos of the festival. She would never miss a Holi celebration, no matter what. It wasn’t just about the colors for her; it was about the togetherness, the excitement, the unfiltered happiness that came with it. I have pictures of her from every Holi, frozen moments of bliss that now feel like echoes from another lifetime. But today, Holi feels different. The vibrancy of the festival has faded into a dull, lifeless day. The world continues to celebrate, colors still fly through the air, laughter still fills the streets—but for us, there is an emptiness that no amount of color can fill. We miss her. We miss her presence, her laughter, the way she brought life to every celebration. Grief is strange—it turns the most joyous occasions into bittersweet reminders of what once was. Today, Holi isn’t just a festival; it’s another milestone in this journey of loss, another day of longing for the person who made it special. Sana, you are in every color, in every laugh, in every bright memory. And though today feels empty without you, your spirit will always be woven into the Holi celebrations we once shared.