The Beginning of a Goodbye We Never Saw Coming

Today marks a painful memory — the day we took Sana back to the hospital. She had been throwing up and, after consulting with the doctors, it was decided that she should be admitted. Just the day before, despite her discomfort, she had insisted on going to the open-air mall with her dear friend Theresa, who was visiting from San Diego. Sana was in visible pain, but she walked slowly through the mall, took in the atmosphere, and even picked out a thoughtful gift for Theresa. That was just like her — thinking of others, always giving, even when she had so little strength herself. The following day, her condition worsened, and we drove her from Rahway to the hospital in New York. We felt uneasy but not alarmed — we trusted that she was in good hands. Theresa, ever the devoted friend, stayed with Sana at the hospital before catching her flight back. We truly believed that a few days of care would help Sana recover and she’d be back home, safe with us. But things quickly took a turn. Her temperature spiked to 106°F. Her heart, her organs — everything began to falter. Yet, even then, hope clung to us. We were in one of the best hospitals, surrounded by some of the most experienced doctors. We kept telling ourselves this was just a setback, and she'd pull through. We were fighting denial with everything we had. Little did we know this was the beginning of the farewell we never imagined. As we approach almost a year since that day, the memories are no longer blurred by shock or numbed by disbelief. They are sharp now, vivid, cutting deeper than they did then. Last year, we were functioning on adrenaline and prayer. This year, we are left with the weight of reality — the realization that the timeline of her final days has etched itself into our souls. Grief has its own strange rhythm. The closer we get to the anniversary of losing her, the more the images of those final days rise up like a tide — unstoppable and suffocating. We remember her bravery, her grace, her quiet smiles through pain, and our helplessness. There is no guide for this kind of sorrow. Only memories, and the ache of a love that still has nowhere to go.