A weekend away

A Weekend in Milwaukee: Grief on the Road We slipped away to Milwaukee this weekend—our attempt at creating a small pocket of space to celebrate Idris’s birthday with family. We hoped the change of scenery would soften the edges of our grief, even if only for a moment. Idris hasn’t wanted to celebrate anymore; the weight he carries is too heavy, and birthdays feel different now. But we thought being with the two people who share our pain and our love for Sana might help form a tiny scab over the wound that never seems to close. But loss travels with you. Everywhere we went, Sana was there—not in body, but in memory so vivid it felt like she might turn the corner at any second. I kept flashing back to our last birthday together in Chicago. I still have the video of her singing “happy birthday,” her voice filling the room, her smile lighting us up. In Milwaukee, I could see her in the small shopping alley, in the food hall, in the brewery where we sat trying to enjoy the moment. It was as if the city kept placing reminders of her in our path, echoes of the life that should still be intertwined with ours. And then, as always, we ended up at Denny’s—the traditional birthday breakfast that Idris loves. Sana would have rolled her eyes and sighed, “Not again,” in that playful way of hers. I could almost hear it across the table. We went away hoping to find a bit of ease, a brief distraction, a little breath. Instead, we found what we already knew: grief doesn’t loosen its grip just because you cross a state line. Sometimes it sits even closer. But being together, remembering her together, hurting together—that is its own kind of honoring. Maybe that is the only celebration we know how to have right now.