I am ok

“I Am Ok” “I am ok.” It sounds like a positive affirmation, but for me, it carries a weight I cannot ignore. It was a line Sana used often in the hospital. Every time I asked how she was, no matter how hard the day had been, that was her response. Calm. Contained. Almost protective—meant to spare me more than herself. And now, I hear it again. Whenever someone asks my mom how she is doing, her answer is the same: I am ok. Hearing those words pulls something tight inside me. I find myself wondering where this strength comes from. Did Sana inherit this endurance from her grandmother? Can resilience move through generations, quietly passed down through love? Each time I enter the hospital, my heart races. The lights, the smell, the beeping of machines unlock memories I thought were safely stored away. Trauma remembers before the mind does. I had hoped this trip to India would be restful—that I would simply spend time with my mom. I am doing that, but mentally this has been far harder than I expected. When Sana was in the hospital, I powered through robotically. I showed up, functioned, survived. This time, I can’t seem to do that. The detachment isn’t there. Perhaps because the pain now comes from two directions. The two people closest to me are going through pain, and I can’t do anything to change it. That helplessness is overwhelming. Through all of this, one truth has become unmistakably clear—then and now. Family is the only real support I can expect. It was family that held me together when Sana was here. It is family that holds me now, as I sit beside my mom, carrying fear, memory, and love all at once. “I am ok” may not always be true. But being here—for each other—is.