When Sana’s Friends Come Home

When Sana’s Friends Come Home Sana’s friend Vaidehi is coming today, and I find myself holding so many emotions at once. I am happy to see her. I am grateful that she is coming. And yet, beneath all of that is an ache that is difficult to put into words. The last time I saw Vaidehi was two years ago, when Sana’s friends had all come to Chicago for her birthday. I remember that time so vividly—the laughter, the conversations, the energy of young people who loved each other deeply. They were Sana’s people. The friends who were closest to her heart. And today, one of them is coming to see me—but Sana isn’t here. That is the part my heart still struggles to understand. How can the people who were such an important part of her life continue to walk through our lives when she is no longer physically here to walk alongside them? Seeing Vaidehi will bring back memories of Sana—their friendship, their conversations, their laughter, the little things I may have forgotten until someone who knew her brings them back. There is something both comforting and heartbreaking about being with the people who loved her. For a little while, I get to be close to a part of Sana again. But I also feel the absence more deeply. Grief is strange that way. Sometimes the people who remind you most of the person you lost are the very people who make you miss them the most. Today, I will welcome Vaidehi with an open heart. I will listen to her stories. I will remember Sana through her eyes. And perhaps, for a little while, it will feel like a small piece of Sana has come home. Because these were her friends. The people who held a special place in her heart. And even though Sana is not here to sit with us today, the love she shared with them is still here. Maybe that is one of the ways we keep her with us.