Lasting moments

They say culture shapes who we are — and maybe that’s true. But I’ve come to believe it’s a mother who truly shapes your person. This morning, a Facebook memory appeared — a photo of Sana and me. I remember that day so vividly. I had driven to Occidental just to see her for an hour before heading back to Anaheim. Just an hour, yet it filled me with so much peace. Seeing that memory brought everything rushing back — her smile, her voice, her presence. It also took me to her last few days in the hospital. Sana was always righteous — she wanted to do the right thing, and she preferred to stay away from attention. But when she was sick, she wanted me near. I was bathing her, helping her with everything, doing all the little things mothers do without even thinking. The day before she went into a coma, she asked me to bathe her. She was always particular about cleanliness — it was her way of feeling grounded. I didn’t know then that it would be one of our last moments together. Since losing her, I’ve thought often about the quiet ways love shows up. How even in her illness, she found comfort in my presence — just as I still do in my own mother’s voice when she tells me, “It will be okay.” And when Maahir is sick, he too needs me around. It’s a circle of care that never really ends. Maybe that’s what motherhood is — an invisible thread that runs through generations, connecting us in moments of strength and fragility alike. Even in absence, that bond remains. It becomes quieter, softer — but it’s there, reminding me that love doesn’t end. It simply changes form. For Sana — who taught me that love lives on, even in silence. 💜