May Arrives With Memory

May Arrives With Memory May has a way of settling into my bones. It doesn’t knock. It doesn’t ask permission. It simply arrives—and with it, a heaviness that quietly fills every corner of my heart. Two years ago, May held hope. Hope that Sana would recover. Hope that what we were facing was temporary. Hope that somehow, love would be enough to keep her here. This year feels different. Not sharper, not louder—just deeper. Grief has changed shape. It no longer crashes; it lingers. Each day unfolds slowly, carrying a new memory, a new ache I didn’t know was waiting. Life, somehow, continues to move. There’s a nikkah this Thursday—Maahir’s. There are traditions to follow, rituals that once felt joyful and grounding. We went to the bank to take out jewelry for Serena, something I’ve always believed in doing as a mother. But as I held those pieces in my hand, all I could hear was Sana’s voice: “Mom, this is mine.” She loved jewelry. She wore it with a joy I never quite had. It was never just an accessory for her—it was expression, identity, delight. And now, I find myself looking at those same pieces and wondering— what is any of this worth? Because the one person who would have treasured it the most is not here to claim it. Mother’s Day is approaching. Her second anniversary is near. And this year, we will be in Portugal, attending her childhood friend’s wedding. A place that should feel beautiful. A moment that should feel celebratory. But I keep asking myself— how do I walk into that space without her? How do I witness milestones, traditions, joy— when the one I ache for is missing from every frame? Grief doesn’t ask us to stop living. But it does change how we live. There is a quiet duality now— showing up for life while carrying an absence that never leaves. Smiling through moments that feel incomplete. Holding love and loss in the same breath. I miss her in ways words can’t fully hold. In every bone of my body. In the silence between moments. In the spaces where her laughter used to live. May doesn’t just bring memories. It brings her. And in that, there is both pain… and love that refuses to fade.